IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-I) 


.<^ 


^>^ 


A* 


^ 


1.0 


■J  lu    ^» 


1.1 


s  lii  110 


11-25  i  1.4 


us; 


1.6 


Ph0l9gra{M: 

^SdHioes 

Corporatm 


^ 

^ 
^^^} 


23  WBT  MAM  STMIT 

WnSTW,N.Y.  I4SM 
(716)t7S>4S03 


4^ 


6\ 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Instituta  for  Historical  IMicroraproductlons  /  inttitut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiquaa 


Tflchnical  and  Bibliographic  Notas/Notas  tachniquaa  at  bibliograpliiquaa 


Tlia  inatituta  liaa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  whicli  may  ba  bibliographically  uniqua, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
raproduction,  or  which  may  aigniflcantiy  changa 
tha  uaual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackaid  balow. 


D 
D 
D 
D 
D 


Colourad  covara/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 

Covara  damagad/ 
Couvartura  andommag^a 

Covara  rastorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Couvartura  raatauria  at/ou  pallicuMa 

Covar  titia  miaaing/ 

La  titra  da  couvartura  manqua 

Colourad  mapa/ 

Cartaa  gAographiquat  an  coulaur 


I     I   Colourad  inic  (i.a.  othar  than  blua  or  blacic)/ 


Ef 


Encra  da  coulaur  (i.a.  autra  qua  blaua  ou  noira) 

Colourad  plataa  and/or  illuatrationa/ 
Planchaa  at/ou  illuatrationa  an  coulaur 


□   Bound  with  othar  matarial/ 
RalM  avac  d'autraa  documanta 


D 


D 


D 


Tight  binding  may  cauaa  ahadowa  or  diatortion 
along  intarlor  margin/ 

Laroliura  aarrte  paut  cauaar  da  I'ombra  ou  da  la 
diatortion  la  long  da  la  marga  intiriaura 

Blank  laavas  addad  during  raatoration  may 
appaar  within  tha  taxt.  Whanavar  poaalbla.  thaaa 
hava  baan  omittad  from  filming/ 
II  aa  paut  qua  cartalnaa  pagaa  bianchaa  ajoutiaa 
lora  d'una  raatauration  apparalaaant  dana  la  taxta, 
mala,  loraqua  cala  Atait  poaaiMa.  eaa  pagaa  n'ont 
paa  *t«  f  ilmiaa. 

Additional  commanta:/ 
Commantairaa  aupplAmantairaa: 


L'Inatitut  a  microfilm*  la  maillaur  axamplaira 
qu'il  lui  a  At*  poaalbla  da  aa  procurer.  Laa  dAtails 
da  cat  axamplaira  qui  aont  paut-*tra  uniquaa  du 
point  da  vua  bibllographiqua,  qui  pauvant  modifier 
una  imaga  raproduita,  ou  qui  pauvant  axigar  una 
modification  dana  la  mAthoda  normala  da  f ilmaga 
aont  indiquAa  ci-daaaoua. 


I     I  Colourad  pagaa/ 


Pagaa  da  coulaur 

Pagaa  damagad/ 
Pagaa  andommagiaa 


□   Pagaa  raatorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Pagaa  rattaurAaa  at/ou  palliculAaa 

r~7|  Pagaa  diacolourad,  atainad  or  foxad/ 
l^   Pagaa  dicolorAaa,  tachatAaa  ou  piquAaa 


Ef 


Pagaa  datachad/ 
Pagaa  dAtachiaa 


r~n   Showthrough/ 
UlJ  Tranaparanca 

r~|   Quality  of  print  variaa/ 


QuaiitA  InAgala  da  I'impraaaion 

Includaa  aupplamantary  material/ 
Comprand  du  material  aupplimantaira 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mition  disponible 


n 


Pagaa  wholly  or  partially  obacured  by  erreta 
alipa,  tiaauaa,  etc..  have  been  refilmed  to 
enaure  the  beat  poaalbla  image/ 
Lea  pagae  totalement  ou  pertlellement 
obacurciaa  par  un  fauillet  d'arrata.  una  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  4tA  filmdea  i  nouveau  da  fa^ on  A 
obtenir  le  meilleure  image  poaalbla. 


Thia  item  la  filmed  et  the  reduction  ratio  cheeked  below/ 

Ce  document  eet  filniA  au  taux  da  rMuetion  hMttquA  e^-deaaoua. 

10X  14X  1IX  22X 


26X 


30X 


12X 


H 


itx 


aox 


MX 


2BX 


32X 


Th«  copy  fumed  tmn  has  bMn  raproduecd  thanks 
to  th«  OMMrathy  off: 

■NnropoNWi  ifNiNiiv  UDnwy 


L'oxMnploiro  f ilmA  fut  roproduit  grieo  A  to 
g4n4rotit*  do: 

UhliiMMilllMi  TomntB  LHiniv 
Soimimb  TMhnoloof  DtptrtHMnt 


Tho  Imofloo  appoarinfl  hoio  Ofo  tho  boM  quality 
poaslbto  coiMidoring  tho  condition  and  loglblllty 
off  tho  original  copy  and  In  kaoping  with  tha 
ffHmlng  contraet  spoolffleatlona. 


Original  coploo  In  printed  papar  covori  ara  ffHmad 
baghMikig  with  tha  ffront  covor  and  anding  on 
tho  laat  paga  with  a  printed  or  Wuatrotad  Impraa- 
•Ion.  or  tho  back  covor  whon  appropriata.  AN 
othor  original  ooploa  ara  ffUmod  beginning  on  the 
fflrst  page  with  e  printed  or  Wuetratod  bnpree- 
tlon.  and  ending  on  the  laat  page  with  e  printed 
or  ilHietratod  impraealon. 


Tho  loot  recorded  ffremo  on^eoch  mierofficho 
•hM  contain  the  symbol  — »>  (mowilng  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  ▼  (mooning  "END"). 
wMolioyer  epplles. 


Lss  imeges  sulventes  ont  *t«  reproduites  avec  ie 
plus  grand  sdn.  eompte  tenu  de  la  condition  st 
da  to  nottet*  de  i'exempleirs  ffiim*.  et  on 
conformiti  evec  ies  conditions  du  centrat  de 
ffilmege. 

Los  exempleiree  originaux  dont  to  eouverture  sn 
pepier  eet  ImprimAo  sent  ffiim^s  sn  commsnfsnt 
par  to  premier  ptot  et  en  terminent  soit  psr  Is 
demlAre  pege  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
dimpreesion  ou  d'illustrstion.  solt  par  to  sscond 
ptot.  colon  to  COS.  Tous  lss  sunres  SKsmptolrss 
origineux  sent  ffllm4s  sn  commen^snt  par  to 
premMre  pege  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
dlmpreeston  ou  dlilustrstion  st  sn  tsrmlnsnt  par 
to  demlire  pege  qui  comporte  une  teito 
empreinte. 

\in  dee  symboiss  suivsnts  sppsrsttrs  sur  la 
damtoro  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  seion  Ie 
ces:  to  symbole  -^  signiffis  "A  SUiVRE".  to 
symboto  ▼  signlffto  "FIN". 


ptotee.  cherts,  stc..  may  be  ffHmed  et 
dHffOrent  reduction  retlos.  Those  too  large  to  bo 
entirely  Included  In  one  expoeuro  ere  ffHmed 
beginning  to  the  upper  tofft  hend  comer,  loft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  fframes  aa 
required.  The  ffollowtog  dtograms  llhistrate  tho 


Lss  csrtes.  pisnchss.  tsblssux.  stc..  psuvsnt  Atrs 
fiimAs  A  dss  taux  ds  rAductton  diff Arsnts. 
Lorsque  to  document  est  trop  grsnd  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  ssui  ciichA,  il  est  filmA  A  psrtir 
ds  i'sngto  supArtour  gsuchs.  ds  gsuchs  A  droKs. 
st  ds  haut  en  bes,  sn  prsnsnt  to  nombre 
d'lmegoe  nAcessslrs.  Lss  disgrsmmss  suivsnts 
lilustront  to  mAthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

S 

6 

: 


t 


* 


: 


FLOWERS  OF  THE  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


« 


H  M 


\ 


) 


FLOWERS 


OF  THE 


FIELD    AND    FOREST. 


FROM 


a>tiQjiml  mattV"€olat  ^at»tns0  after  0attttt, 


By  ISAAC  SPRAGUE. 


DESCRIPTIVE   TEXT   BY    REV.   A.   B.   HERVEY. 


WITH  EXTRACTS  FROM 


LONGFELLOW,  LOWELL,  BRYANT,  EMERSON,  AND  OTHERS. 


BOSTON 

L.  C.  PAGE    AND    COMPANY 

(Incorporated) 

1899 


i 
Mi 

in 


METROPOLITAN 
TORONTO 

CENTRAL 
LIBRARY 

Social  Sciences 


Copyright,  i88s, 
Bv  H.  E  NiMS  AMD  Company. 


\\ 


<*>, 


1 


'  f 


DEC  1 7  1975 


u 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Blood-Root  .        .       . 
The  Pasture  Thistle 
The  Partridge-Berry 
The  Pitcher-Plant 

The  Pale  Laurel 
The  Meadow  Beauty  . 
The  Bur-Marigold 
The  Climbing  Hemp- Weed 
The  White  Bay    . 
The  Cardinal-Flower. 


«i.' 


BLOOD-ROOT. 


>  I 


I  HAVE  seen 
A  curious  child,  who  dwelt  upon  a  tract 
Of  inland  ground,  applying  to  his  ear 
The  convolutions  of  a  smooth-lipped  shell. 
To  which,  in  silence  hushed,  his  very  soul 
Listened  intensely;  and  his  countenance  soon 
Brightened  with  joy;  for  from  within  were  heard 
Murmurings,  whereby  the  monitor  expressed 
Mysterious  union  with  its  native  sea. 

Even  such  a  shell  the  universe  itself 
Is  to  the  ear  of  Faith ;  and  there  are  times, 
I  doubt  not,  when  to  you  it  doth  impart 
Authentic  tidings  of  invisible  things; 
Of  ebb  and  flow,  and  ever-during  power; 
And  central  peace,  subsisting  at  the  heart 
Of  endless  agitation.    Here  you  stand. 
Adore,  and  worship,  when  you  know  it  not; 
Pious  beyond  the  intention  of  your  thought; 
Devout  above  the  meaning  of  your  will. 

Wordsworth, 


^4  'I 


I* 


f  II 


<  (■!  .-.••■"  J!,  seen 
,^  t«»4ttij«  «:Mt*i,  vvtw  4^■.■*■r'?  H|>i^«i  a  tract 
^  ^rdtmd  i:rf<m'^*y  ■  ■■■'  W  kh  rm 


'^:ut''-  expressed 


Mysterious  uniort  with  (ties  ivati\'e  '.«fca. 

Even  such  ;>  sh<?l!  '-M*  universe  r^?lf 
Is  tu  the  ear  of  Faitih:   limi  tJiert  .tt*  tinii««, 
I  doubt  not,  'vvh«n  f/^  vv.h.,  it  dodi  t.Tipsr* 
Authentic  ticl'sip  m      ■        k*  thitsg^^. 
Of  ebb  and  fttvw,  «S:4  fi'**'»4i4ffn|f  tjenwet; 
Ann!  si'fik'Al ■  p&XK*.,  m^^w^  r-  ^ .^-an 

A«|#if*-  ^'^  .  'vat; 


tf&A->}^; 


A 


1/ 


si't.i*,  .-■,  '£:. 


Blood-Root. 


SANGUINARIA   CANADENSIS  L. 


How  fresh,  O  Lord,  how  sweet  and  clean 

Are  thy  returns  I    even  as  the  flowers  in  Spring; 
To  which,  besides  their  own  demean. 

The  late-past  frosts  tributes  of  pleasure  bring. 
Grief  melts  away 
Like  snow  in  May, 
As  if  there  were  no  such  cold  thing. 


Who  would  have  thought  my  shrivelled  heart 

Could  have  recovered  greenness?    It  was  gone 
Qjiite  under  ground;  as  flowers  depart 

To  see  their  mother-root,  when  they  have  blown; 
Where  they  together. 
All  the  hard  weather. 
Dead  to  the  world,  keep  house  unknown. 


And  now  in  age,  I  bud  again. 

After  so  many  deaths  I  live  and  write; 
I  once  more  smell  the  dew  and  rain, 
And  relish  versing:    O  my  only  light, 
It  cannot  be 
That  I  am  he 
On  whom  thy  tempests  fell  all  night. 

Herbert, 


If: 


FLOWERS   OF  THE  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

Nature  also  is  an  artist  and  an  author.  She  paints  the 
flowers  before  we  copy  them,  and  writes  their  simple  story  for 
us  to  tell  again.  We  have  put  upon  the  first  page  of  our  book 
a  charming  flower,  which  she  also  displays  upon  the  opening 
leaves  of  the  great  floral  book  of  the  year.  The  story  of  its 
modest  life  is  not  a  long  or  a  startling  one,  but  perhaps  it  has 
a  cheery  word  of  hope,  which  weary,  wintry  hearts,  longing  for 
spring,  may  be  glad  to  hear. 

In  the  very  early  April  days,  which  in  our  New  England  clime 
are  not  over  likely  to  be  sunny  days,  before  the  leaves  come  out 
at  all  upon  the  trees,  when  the  downy  catkins  are  first  showing 
the  revival  of  life  in  the  willows  by  the  brook-side,  before  any 
green  thing  yet  gladdens  the  eye  in  field  or  forest,  and  the  brown 
dead  grass  and  the  brown  dead  leaves  cover  all  the  ground,  then 
it  is  that  in  the  edges  of  the  moist,  rich  woods  the  Sanguinaria 
puts  up  its  slender  stem,  crowned  with  its  circlet  of  petals  daz- 
zling white.  It  is  a  most  beautiful  flower,  and,  to  my  thoughts, 
a  beautiful  emblem  of  nature's  Easter,  its  pure  whiteness  having 
something  more  than  the  earthly  in  its  unstained  loveliness.  It 
seems  almost  to  have  lived  its  earthly  course,  and  passing  through 
the  disrobing  room  of  Death,  which  — 

''has  leib  on  her 
Only  the  beautiful.'* 

comes  now  as  the  promise,  radiant  and  heavenly,  of  that  touch  of 
the  Infinite  Life  by  which  all  the  dead  are  quickened. 

It  is  not  easy  to  say  why  we  see  in  all  these  beautiful  forms 
of  nature  these  hidden  meanings,  and  delight  to  trace  in  them 
a  likeness  to  our  deeper  thoughts  and  experiences.     Are  these 


BLOOD-ROOT. 


similitudes  mere  fanciful  semblances,  or  are  they  indications  that 
our  clearer  consciousness  is  but  the  sign  of  a  universal  life,  which, 
after  its  kind,  is  conscious  in  every  thing  ?  Are  the  mental  and 
material  worlds  after  all  but  separate  rooms  in  the  one  house  of 
Life,  divided  by  a  thin,  flexible  partition,  so  that  a  moving  breath 
in  the  one  palpitates  through  the  other  in  correlations  of  conscious 
thought?  Who  shall  say?  Still  it  remains  true  that  we  like 
to  see  our  own  thoughts  and  feelings  mirrored  in  the  larger 
doings  and  happenings  of  the  Kosmos.  We  love  that  poet  best 
who  best  humanizes  nature,  and  finds  a  present  counterpart  of 
himself  in  the  dumb  life  around  him;  who,,  without  seeming  to 
exceed  probability,  or  distort  natural  functions,  discovers  emotions 
in  things  which  we  have  known  in  ourselves.  We  love  his  mes- 
sage most  who  puts  his  ear  to  the  natural  universe  as  to 

"  The  convolutions  of  a  smooth-lipped  shell," 

and  then  tells  us  of 

"  Authentic  tidings  of  invisible  things, 
The  central  peace  subsisting  at  the  heart 
Of  endless  agitation." 

which  it  murmurs  to  his  listening  soul. 

So  I  am  sure  quaint  George  Herbert  speaks  to  wide  acceptance 
when  he  finds  in  the  coming  forth  of  the  flowers  in  early  spring 
from  their  abode  "quite  underground,"  where  they  have  gone  "to 
see  their  mother-root ; "  and 

"  Dead  to  the  world,  keep  house  unknown 
All  the  hard  weather," 

a    deep    illuminating    correspondence   with    that    most   precious 


:^' 


i 


^■^ 


FLOWERS  OP  THE  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

Spiritual  experience,  when  the  shrivelled  heart,  "on  which  tern- 
oests  fell  all  night,"  has  "recovered  greenness,"  and 

"Smells  the  dew  and  rain, 
And  buds  again." 

For  nature  teaches  no  sweeter  lesson  than  when,  with  floral  sym- 
bols, it  repeats  from  year  to  year,  to  a  sinful  and  mortal  world,  the 
pictured  hope  of  man's  moral  and  material  rebuilding.  And  the 
Sanguinaria,  with  its  blood-red  root  under  ground,  and  its  pearly 
purity  up  in  the  April  air,  may  rightly  speak  a  word  of  hope  to 
those  who  in  obscurity  and  darkness  have  all  their  lives  distilled 
only  bitter  tears,  like  drops  of  blood,  from  the  griefs  and  defile- 
ments of  their  lot.  For  with  it  what  a  beautiful  white  soul  has 
blossomed  from  a  root-life  so  ensanguined  and  bitter  !  How 
greatly  is  it  like  those  souls  about  the  Throne  "  which  have  come 
out  of  great  tribulation,  and  have  washed  their  robes  and  made 
them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb." 

The  poet's  quaint  fancy  of  flowers,  "  keeping  house  "  all  the  win- 
ter long,  underground,  finds  plenty  of  illustrations  in  the  real  life 
of  many  plants,  notably  in  this  one.  The  housekeeping,  however, 
does  not  use  up  in  the  winter  what  has  been  garnered  in  the  sum- 
mer. It  only  just  preserves  it  for  the  early  needs  of  the  plant  at 
the  beginning  of  the  next  season,  before  it  shall  have  time  to  draw 
anew  from  nature's  great  supplies.  Through  the  long  summer  its 
broad,  roundish  leaves  are  opened  and  lifted  up  to  the  sun  and  rain, 
and  with  patient  industry  gather  out  of  the  air  and  dew  stores 
of  invisible  food.  These,  mingling  with  the  nutritious  elements 
which  its  fine  rootlets  have  sucked  from  the  moistened  soil,  have 
been  slowly  elaborated  and  laid  away  in  the  red  root-stalk,  lying 


BLOOD-ROOT. 

like  a  hidden  storehouse  underground.  So  when  the  warm  spring 
sun  melts  the  locks  and  chains  of  frosty  winter,  and  sets  free  the 
whole  imprisoned  kingdom  of  plants,  none  are  sooner  ready  to 
come  forth  and  smile  a  welcome  to  the  great  Liberator  than  the 
red-footed,  white-breasted  Sanguinaria. 

The  flower  stays  not  long,  and  the  plant,  after  producing  the 
early  harvest  of  seeds,  surrenders,  as  just  now  indicated,  most  of 
the  growing  season  to  the  prudent  accumulation  of  sustenance  for 
next  year's  flowering  and  fruit  bearing.  So  it  makes  to-day  render 
tribute  to  to-morrow,  as  to-day  itself  is  in  part  the  product  of  yes- 
terday. Thus  its  little  life  links  its  generations  together  with 
mutual  helpfulness,  and  mingles  the  common  and  popular  blessing 
of  receiving  with  the  greater  blessedness  of  giving. 

Concerning  the  blood-red  liquid  which  freely  exudes  when  the 
stem  or  root-stalk  is  cut  or  broken,  and  which  gives  the  popular 
as  well  as  the  scientific  name  to  Sanguinaria,  Prof.  Goodale 
says :  "  In  the  case  of  nearly  all  plants  from  which  a  white 
or  colored  juice  exudes,  there  is  a  special  system  of  microscopic 
canals,  consisting  either  of  branched  cells  or  confluent  tubes, 
termed  the  Latex  system.  Thus  in  the  Euphorbias,  Lettuce  and 
Poppy,  the  milky  juice  is  contained  in  communicating  Latex-tubes. 
But  in  some  other  cases,  for  example  blood-root,  the  colored  juice 
is  held  in  receptacles  of  a  different  character.  In  blood-root  these 
special  receptacles  are  roundish  or  more  elongated,  and  possess 
very  thin  walls.  While  some  of  these  sacs  or  cells  are  separated 
from  each  other,  others  are  arranged  in  rows.  This  grouping 
into  linear  series  is  well  marked  in  the  more  superficial  parts." 
The  colored  juice  of  the  Sanguinaria  was  used  by  the  Indians 
as  a  dye. 


FLOWERS  OF  THE  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


Having  referred  to  this  plant  as  our  sweetest  floral  emblem  of 
nature's  Easter,  I  cannot  refrain  from  quoting  a  few  stanzas  from 
Phcjebe  Gary's  well  known  lines, "  Resurgam,"  in  which  she  for- 
tifies  her  own  heart,  at  the  approach  of  death,  by  this  hope  which 
nature  in  the  early  spring  so  brightly  illuminates; 

Nature's  sepulchre  is  breaking, 
And  the  earth,  her  gloom  forsaking, 
Into  life  and  light  is  waking. 

Oh,  the  weakness  and  the  madness 
Of  a  heart  that  holdeth  sadness 
When  all  else  is  light  and  gladness  I 

Shall  not  He  who  life  supplieth 
To  the  dead  seed,  where  it  lieth, 
Qiiicken  also  man,  who  dieth? 

Rise,  my  soul,  then,  from  dejection^ 
See  in  nature  the  reflection 
Of  the  dear  Lord's  resurrection. 

Let  this  promise  leave  thee  never: 
*'  If  the  might  of  death  I  sever, 
Ye  shall  also  live  forever  I'* 


3lem  of 

IS  from 

ihe  for- 

which 


THE   PASTURE  THISTLE. 


I 


V4 


i 


s  I 


i    I 


I 


w  ■  t 

i 


I 


The  Pasture  Thistle. 


CNICUS  PUMILUS  Torrey. 


THE  THISTLE  FLOWER. 

My  homely  flower,  that  blooms  along 

The  dry  and  dusty  ways, 
I  have  a  mind  to  make  a  song, 

And  make  it  in  thy  praise; 
For  thou  art  favored  of  my  heart, 
Humble  and  outcast  as  thou  art. 

Though  never  with  the  plants  of  grace 

In  garden  borders  set. 
Full  often  have  I  seen  thy  face 

With  tender  tear-drops  wet. 
And  seen  thy  gray  and  ragged  sleeves 
All  wringing  with  them  morns  and  eves. 

Albeit  thou  livest  in  a  bush 

Of  such  unsightly  form. 
Thou  hast  not  any  need  to  blush  — 

Thou  hast  thine  own  sweet  charm j 
And  for  that  charm  I  love  thee  so, 
And  not  for  any  outward  show. 

Alice  Cary. 

I  NEED  hardly  make  a  point  of  formally  introducing  the  Thistle 
to  my  readers.     It  has  a  faculty  of  pointedly  introducing  itself,  and, 


FLOWERS   OF  THE    FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


notwithstanding  the  humane  admiration  of  our  poet  for  this  brist- 
ling denizen  of  the  pastures,  most  people  do  not  care  for  a  very 
close  or  intimate  acquaintance  with  it.  I  may  say,  however,  that 
among  botanists  it  is  spoken  of  as  belonging  to  the  large  tribe  of 
composite  flowers.  The  admirable  picture  by  Mr.  Sprague  tells 
more  of  it  at  a  single  glance  than  could  be  conveyed  by  pages 
of  description.  It  is  in  flower  all  summer,  and  may  be  found,  in 
the  latitude  of  New  England  and  Pennsylvania,  as  far  West  as 
the  Mississippi.  Though  so  common,  and  so  obnoxious  as  a 
weed,  that  few  ever  take  any  interest  in  it,  it  is  not  to  be  denied 
that  it  possesses  a  certain  kind  of  attractiveness.  In  the  artist's 
eye,  its  rich,  red  blossom,  and  its  curiously  cut  and  jagged  leaves, 
are  not  without  their  elements  of  beauty.  It  has  been  made  to 
serve  ornamental  if  not  useful  ends,  for  it  was  early  seized  upon 
by  the  architect  and  designer  as  the  basis  of  much  fine  orna- 
mentation both  in  colors  and  in  carvings. 

Prof.  Hulme  says:  "The  Thistle  has  been  largely  employed 
in  ornamental  art,  in  some  cases  clearly  for  its  own  inherent 
beauty;  in  others  as  clearly  from  its  heraldic  and  historic  asso- 
ciations. A  very  beautiful  example  of  it  may  be  seen  in  a  square 
panel  in  the  Cathedral  of  Bruges,  and  again  in  the  moulding  on 
a  tomb  of  Don  Juan  II.,  in  that  building;  in  numerous  wooden 
panels  (Gothic  carvings)  in  the  South  Kensington  Museum ;  and 
on  the  monument  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  in  Westminster 
Abbey." 

It  is  best  known,  perhaps,  as  the  national  emblem  of  Scot- 
land, but  how  it  came  to  be  such,  or  what  particular  species 
of  it  fire .  furnished  the  sturdy  Scotchmen  with  their  symbol, 
is  much  in  dispute  among  the  antiquarians  and  naturalists.     In 


(» 


THE   PASTURE  THISTLE. 


V 


^  > 


any  case  it  was  not  probably  the  one  figured  in  our  plate.  Various 
legends  undertake  to  account  for  its  becoming  the  national  sym- 
bol, and  of  course  throw  the  origin  of  it  far  back  into  the  past. 
This  is  one  story:  "When  the  Danes  invaded  Scotland,  it  was 
deemed  un warlike  to  attack  an  enemy  in  the  darkness  of  the  night 
instead  of  a  pitched  battle  by  day;  but  on  one  occasion  the  in- 
vaders resolved  to  avail  themselves  of  stratagem,  and,  in  order 
to  prevent  their  tramp  being  heard,  marched  barefooted.  They 
had  thus  neared  the  Scottish  camp  unobserved,  when  a  Dane 
unluckily  stepped  upon  a  sharp  thistle,  and  uttered  a  cry  of  pain, 
which  immediately  aroused  the  Scotch,  who  discovered  the  stealthy 
foe,  and  defeated  them  with  great  slaughter.  The  thistle  was 
immediately  adopted  as  the  emblem  of  Scotland."  For  as  good 
a  reason  Rome  might  have  adopted  the  goose  as  its  national 
bird,  for  did  not  a  flock  of  cackling  geese,  on  a  like  occasion* 
save  Rome?  There  is,  however,  no  authentic  record  of  its  ap- 
pearance in  Scottish  history  in  this  relation  earlier  than  1458, 
when  it  is  referred  to  in  an  inventory  of  the  property  of  James 
III.,  of  Scotland,  as  "a  covering  of  variand  purpir  tarter  browdin 
with  thrissils  and  a  unicorn,"  the  unicorn  being  also  an  emblem 
of  Scotland. 

The  Scottish  knighthood,  the  Order  of  the  Thistle,  is  of  com- 
paratively  late  origin.  James  I.  of  Great  Britain,  who  was  also 
James  VI.  of  Scotland,  on  his  accession  to  the  throne  of  the 
United  Kingdom,  took  as  his  badge  a  compound  flower,  half  rose 
and  half  thistle,  and  the  stalk  supporting  this  floral  monstrosity 
had  on  one  side  of  it  a  rose  leaf  and  on  the  other  the  leaf  of  a 
thistle. 

If   national    emblems  are   emblematic,  as   I  suppose,  strictly 


FLOWERS   OF   THE   FIELD   AND    FOREST. 

speaking  they  are  not,  I  can  scarcely  see  why  the  Thistle  should 
stand  for  the  "Cannie  Scot."  There  are,  to  be  sure,  points  of 
resemblance,  but  they  are  quite  superficial.  The  national  motto, 
apropos  of  the  emblematic  Thistle,  "Nemo  me  impime  lacessii, — 
No  one  provokes  me  with  impunity,"  might  indeed  hint  at  the 
pugnacious  quality  of  the  Scotch,  especially  in  the  matter  of 
metaphysical  theology ;  and  the  sharp  points  with  which  the 
Thistle  always  bristles  may  be  no  inapt  symbol  of  the  natural 
acuteness  of  the  Scotchman's  mind,  and  the  native  keenness  of 
his  wit.  But  underneath  all,  in  him  there  is  a  rich  store  of 
hearty,  genial  humanity  and  kindliness,  which  find  no  adequate 
symbol  in  the  burly  thistle. 

Like  everything  else  associated  with  his  native  land,  it  was 
dear  to  the  heart  of  Burns,  who  meeting  it  in  his  farm  work, 
says,  — 

*'The  rough  burr  thistle  spreading  wide 

Among  the  bearded  bear, 
I  turned  the  weeder-clips  aside 

And  spared  the  symbol  dear." 


((I 


The  early  bad  reputation  of  the  Thistle  among  English  speak- 
ing people,  is  obvious  from  its  being  made  to  figure  so  prominently 
in  the  "primal  curse,"  pronounced  upon  the  ground  when  Adam 
sinned  in  Eden,  as  related  in  our  English  Bible.  "Cursed  is  the 
ground  for  thy  sake.  Thorns  also,  and  thistles  shall  it  bring 
forth  to  thee."  It  is  not  known  what  plants  are  here  referred 
to,  but  the  use  of  this  word  shows  the  real  opinion  our  translators 
had  of  this  well  known  English  weed.  It  hasn't  many  friends, 
that  is  certain,  and  for  the  best  of  all  reasons.  It  is  not  friendly. 
It  has  a  sort  of  touch-me-not  attitude  toward  all  the  world.     It 


THE    PASTURE   THISTLE. 


has  its  virtues,  no  doubt,  but  they  are  not  of  the  pleasing  or 
conciliatory  kind.  If  people  want  to  admire  it  for  what  it  has  of 
worth  or  beauty,  well  and  good,  they  may  stand  off  and  admire. 
If  they  don't,  it  is  all  the  same  to  the  thistle.  It  is  bound  to 
stand  on  its  own  feet,  defend  its  own  rights,  and  occupy  its  own 
place,  let  the  world  wag  as  it  may.  There  seems  to  be  a  certain 
sturdiness  of  moral  character  about  it  which  is  not  unlike  what 
we  find  in  similar  independent,  thistly,  strongly  individualized, 
and  not  very  agreeable  human  mortals.  They  are  here,  and  here 
to  stay,  and  to  take  care  of  their  own,  not  without  pugnacity, 
giving  and  taking  thrusts.  The  world  may  be  pleased  or  dis- 
pleased, it  matters  little  to  them;  and  the  rest  of  us  console 
ourselves  by  thinking  about  them,  "Oh,  well,  it  takes  all  sorts  of 
people  to  make  a  world." 

While  something  may  be  said  in  a  general  way  in  behalf  of 
this  friendless  weed,  I  should  not  expect  to  make  it  a  favorite 
with  the  farmer.  He  is  blinded  by  prejudice,  a  prejudice,  how- 
ever, not  altogether  without  some  good  grounds;  for  this  plant 
yields  food  neither  to  himself  nor  his  beast,  and  it  absorbs  much 
of  the  vital  strength  of  the  soil  which  ought  to  go  to  nourish 
his  grain  or  his  grass.  Besides,  I  have  no  doubt  he  carries  the 
memory  of  many  sharp  and  painful  thrusts  which  it  has  given 
him  when  he  has  taken  it  up  unawares  with  his  sheaves  of 
wheat  or  oats. 

But  the  most  interesting  thing  about  the  Thistle  is  the  in- 
genious way  by  which  it  contrives  to  scatter  its  seed,  —  just  as 
though  there  wouldn't  be  thistles  enough  for  all  practical  pur- 
poses if  the  seeds  were  left  to  take  their  chances  of  planting  by 
wind  and  weather.      Nature  has  contrived   for   every  one  of  its 


) 

! 

i 
i 


FLOWERS   OF  THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

myriad  seeds  an  airy  little  balloon,  of  the  finest  and  lightest 
down,  and  it  goes  sailing  away  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind  like 
another  Montgolfier,  whose  famous  aeronautics,  indeed,  this  flying 
plant  antedated  many  ages.  Who  ever  saw  a  sunny  summer 
day  in  the  country  when  there  were  not  multitudes  of  these  fairy 
globes,  each  with  an  embryo  plant  in  its  breast,  sailing  lazily 
through  the  sultry  air !  What  images  of  lightness  and  grace  are 
these  airy  nothings  from  the  thistle's  white  crown !  They  will 
sail  on  and  on,  till  the  rain  beats  the  buoyancy  out  of  their 
wings,  and  then  they  will  come  down  with  the  raindrop,  and  be 
planted  far  away  from  their  native  fields. 

I  suppose  most  seeds  are  left  to  the  ordinary  chances  of  the 
elements  for  dispersion  and  planting,  but  many  of  them  are  fur- 
nished with  special  appliances  for  it.  Some  of  these  are  purely 
mechanical,  the  pod  in  which  they  grow  being  so  contrived  that 
as  it  ripens  it  brings  its  sides  into  a  state  of  tension,  which 
increases  as  the  growth  and  ripening  goes  on,  till  at  last  it  bursts 
open  with  a  sudden  and  violent  spring  which  scatters  the  seeds 
in  every  direction,  sometimes  many  feet  away. 

Then,  again,  other  seeds  are  provided  with  barbed  points,  or 
with  sharp  hooks  which  readily  seize  upon  any  passing  object, 
as  the  wool  and  hair  of  animals,  perhaps  the  feathers  of  birds, 
certainly  the  clothing  of  men,  and  are  thus  carried  long  distances 
from  their  native  home.  Others,  like  the  seeds  of  the  maple 
and  trumpet-flower,  have  their  gossamer  wings,  by  which  they 
"  fly  away  to  be  at  rest "  in  some  distant,  hospitable  soil. 

Many,  like  the  thistle  and  dandelion,  are  furnished  with  buoy- 
ant envelopes  of  feathery  fibre,  which  make  them  the  sport  of 
every  breeze.    This  device,  by  which  Nature  disperses  the  seeds 


f 


THE   PASTURE  THISTLE. 

of  some  of  the  humblest  of  its  creatures,  is  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance to  man  in  at  least  one  case,  for  the  downy  fibre  which 
in  the  open  boll  covers  the  black  seed  of  the  cotton  plant,  clothes 
also  the  whole  civilized  race  of  man,  and  is  the  foundation  of 
one  of  the  chief  and  most  astonishing  industries  of  modern 
times. 

The  water-lily,  which  produces  its  seeds  beneath  the  surface 
of  the  water,  has  a  curious  contrivance  for  dispersing  them.  It 
encloses  them  in  a  light,  thin  bag,  which  is  filled  with  air,  and 
is  impervious  to  water.  This  acts  as  a  float  or  life-preserver  to 
the  seed,  which,  directly  it  is  released  from  the  mother  plant, 
rises  to  the  surface  and  floats  away,  "driven  by  the  winds  and 
tossed,"  or  carried  by  the  currents  of  water.  By  and  by  the  sack 
bursts  or  decays,  and  the  seed  immediately  sinks  and  is  embedded 
in  the  mud  at  bottom,  and  is  ready  to  produce  a  new  plant  in 
a  new  place.  The  plant  world  is  full  of  these  ingenious  contriv- 
ances. But  it  is  time  we  permitted  our  poet  to  tell  the  reason 
why  she  takes  the  thistle  to  her  kindly  regard. 


Thou  hast  no  lovers,  and  for  that 

I  love  thee  all  the  more; 
Only  the  wind  and  the  rain  to  be 
Thy  friends,  and  keep  thee  company. 


So,  being  left  to  take  thine  ease 

Behind  thy  thorny  wall, 
Thy  little  head  with  vanities 

Has  not  been  turned  at  all, 
And  all  field  beauties  give  me  grace 
To  praise  thee  to  thy  very  face. 


If 


[  S  s 


1^ 


FLOWERS   OF   THE    FIELD   AND    FOREST. 


So  thou  shalt  evermore  belong 
To  me  from  this  sweet  hour, 

And  I  will  take  thee  for  my  song, 
And  take  thee  for  my  flower, 

And  by  the  great,  and  proud,  and  high, 

Unenvied,  we  will  live  and  die. 

Alice  Cary. 


A 


Iffi 


'•; 


THE    PARTRIDGE-BERRY. 


i! 


L 


]•' 


rmmmm^mwmmtfmmimm 


-WWfW 


L 


^^^BKj^ 


1*. 


Partridge-Berry. 


MITCHELLA    REPENS  L. 


,f , 


Spring,  with  that  nameless  pathos  in  the  air 
Which  dwells  with  all  things  fair, 

Spring,  with  her  golden  sun  and  silver  rain, 
Is  with  us  once  again. 

In  the  deep  heart  of  every  forest  tree 

The  blood  is  all  aglee, 
And  there's  a  look  about  the  leafless  bowers 

As  if  they  dreamed  of  flowers. 

Yet  still  on  every  side  we  trace  the  hand 

Of  winter  in  the  land, 
Save  where  the  maple  reddens  on  the  lawn 

Flushed  by  the  season's  dawn. 

Or  where,  like  those  strange  semblances  we  find 

That  age  to  childhood  bind, 
The  elm  puts  on,  as  if  in  Nature's  scorn, 

The  brown  of  autumn  corn. 

As  yet  the  turf  is  dark,  although  you  know 

That,  not  a  span  below, 
A  thousand  germs  are  groping  through  the  gloom 

And  soon  will  burst  their  tomb. 

Henry  Timrod. 


FLOWBRS   OF  THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


i'  i 


i 


This  is  by  no  means  a  spring  flower,  for  it  opens  its  delicate 
little  twin  blossoms  of  pink  in  the  hot  days  of  June  and  July. 
But  I  suppose  the  plant  is  associated  in  the  minds  of  most 
lovers  of  nature  with  the  memory  of  the  very  earliest  sunny  days 
of  the  year,  for  amidst  the  universal  brown  of  early  spring,  its 
bright  evergreen  leaves,  and  its  brilliant  red  berries,  are  almost 
the  only  things  which  gladden  the  weary  eyes  with  bits  of  pleas- 
ing color.  Here  and  there  a  little  bank  or  tuft  of  moss,  or  a 
frond  of  rock-fern,  adds  its  greenness,  and  shares  with  the  Par- 
tridge-Berry the  gratitude  of  eyes  hungering  for  the  tints  of  sum- 
mer. Especially  grateful  to  us  is  this  humble  plant,  in  the  time 
when  its  shining  leaves  and  sparkling  berries  peep  up  from  their 
nest  in  the  dull  dead  leaves,  sometimes  just  from  under  the  edge 
of  the  retreating  snow.  But  in  the  luxuriant  life  and  color  of  mid- 
summer it  would  scarcely  be  noticed  at  all,  as  it  modestly  puts  up 
its  delicate  pink  flowers,  in  some  dark  nook,  hidden  away  and 
crowded  out  of  sight  by  a  mob  of  obstreperous  weeds.  As  red  as 
the  plump  cheeks  of  this  little  berry  commonly  are,  it  has  been 
sometimes  found  as  white  as  snowdrops.  A  young  lady  sent 
some  white  ones,  two  or  three  years  ago,  from  York,  Pennsylvania, 
to  Dr.  Gray,  the  first  he  had  ever  heard  of,  it  seems. 

In  some  parts  of  the  country  the  aromatic  Wintergreen,  or 
Checkerberry,  is  called  the  Partridge-Berry,  Prof.  Goodale  states. 
I  am  sure  that  in  some  parts  of  New  York  and  Pennsylvania  I 
have  heard  our  plant  called  the  Checkerberry,  and  in  those  regions, 
the  latter  name  is  not  applied  to  the  Wintergreen,  as  it  is  in  New 
England.  The  scientific  name  of  the  plant  was  given  to  it  by  the 
great  Linnaeus,  in  honor  of  Dr.  John  Mitchell  of  Virginia,  who, 
during  the  first  half  of  the  last  century,  was  one  of  our  best  known 


rARTKIDGE-BERRY. 


botanists,  and  a  valued  correspondent  of  the  founder  of  our  science. 
He  was  a  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society,  and  is  known  in  botanical 
science  as  the  author  of  several  short  treatises  on  botany,  which 
were  issued  in  a  collected  form  in  London,  in  1769.  He  certainly 
is  among  the  most  fortunate  of  men  to  have  his  name  and  memory 
embalmed  in  a  plant  at  once  so  charming  and  so  widely  distributed 
as  is  the  Mitchella  repcns.  There  is  but  one  other  species  be- 
longing to  that  genus,  and  that  is  found  in  Japan.  Dr.  Gray  has 
shown,  in  a  very  interesting^  paper,  that  many  of  our  North  Amer- 
ican forms  are  represented  in  the  flora  of  that  country.  The 
Mayflower,  or  trailing  Arbutus,  so  widely  and  deservedly  popular 
in  New  England,  is  a  case  quite  similar  to  that  of  the  Mitchella. 
There  is  but  one  other  species  of  the  Epigcca  known,  and  that  is 
a  native  of  Japan. 

The  most  careless  observer  could  scarcely  fail  to  notice,  that  the 
bright  red  berry  is  furnished  with  a  double  "  blow  end,"  as  though 
two  flowers  had  assisted  in  its  production.  Such  is  the  case.  A 
single  ovary  bears  twin  flowers,  which,  indeed,  sometimes  come  to 
be  something  more  than  "  Siamese-twin "  flowers,  for  they  occa- 
sionally coalesce  and  form  a  single  flower  with  an  eight-lobed 
corolla.  Commonly,  however,  they  are  quite  separate,  and  fructify 
the  corresponding  segments  of  the  compound  ovary  on  which  they 
grow.  The  flowers  themselves  have  individual  peculiarities.  In 
some  the  pistil  is  long  and  stands  out  beyond  the  mouth  of  the  little 
hairy  tube  of  the  corolla,  while  the  stamens  are  short  and  are  con- 
cealed somewhere  down  in  its  obscure  depths.  Other  flowers  will 
show  an  arrangement  exactly  the  opposite  of  this,  the  pistil,  with 
its  four-parted  stigma,  will  be  short  and  hidden  away  in  the  tube 
while  the  stamens  will  protrude.     It  is  evident  that  flowers,  built 


■i 


FLOWERS   OF  THE   FIELD   AND   FOREST. 

Oil  this  plan,  cannot  conveniently  fertilize  themselves.  The  parts 
involved  in  the  act  seem  to  be  thus  purposely  arranged,  so  that 
they  cannot  come  in  contact.  It  has  been  observed  in  other  flowers 
thus  constructed,  that  they  are  very  nicely  arranged  to  utilize  the 
help  of  bees  and  other  insects  in  cross-fertilization,  for  the  pollen 
from  flowers  with  long  stamens  will  be  placed  on  the  insect  which 
comes  for  their  honey,  in  exactly  the  right  position  to  be  most 
easily  communicated  to  the  stigma  of  a  flower  with  r,  long  pistil. 
So  with  the  flowers  having  short  stamens,  and  those  having  short 
pistils. 

If  one  looks  closely  he  will  see  beneath  the  rows  of  roundish, 
opposite,  green  leaves,  just  at  the  base  of  the  leaf-stalk,  a  pair  of 
minute  scales,  or  stipules.  They  seem  to  be  of  no  use  to  the 
plant,  nor  are  they  ornamental.  But  the  trained  botanist  sees  in 
them  great  significance.  They  are  the  unmistakable  signs  that  our 
little  creeping  vine  is  the  "  long  lost  and  far  wandered  scion  of  a 
noble  house."  This  humble  denizen  of  our  woods  has  aristocratic 
connections,  and  is  almost  our  only  representative  of  a  large  and 
influential  family  in  the  kingdom  of  plants,  whose  native  home  is 
in  a  more  genial  clime  than  ours, —  a  family  distinguished  in  some 
of  its  members,  by  the  most  considerable  and  most  honorable  ser- 
vices to  mankind. 

I  need  mention  but  two  or  three  of  these  to  show  that.  The 
Coffee  plant  furnishes  the  material  for  a  decoction  which  is  the 
most  universal  and  most  delicious  drink  (when  rightly  made  and 
rightly  served)  that  art  has  yet  educed  from  nature.  In  the  bark 
of  the  Cinchona  tree,  Peruvian  Bark,  is  found  one  of  the  most 
invaluable  drugs  employed  in  the  art  of  healing,  and  one  which, 
perhaps,  as  a  defence  against  the  subtle  poisons  of  malaria,  has 


PARTRIDGE-BERRY. 

saved  more  human  lives  than  any  other.  In  the  pigment  pro- 
duced from  the  Madder  plant,  we  have  the  basis  and  substance 
of  some  of  our  most  useful  dyes.  These,  and  several  other  useful 
plants  that  might  be  named,  are  all  first  cousins  to  our  bright 
little  friend  of  the  early  spring  time. 

New  are  the  leaves  on  the  oaken  spray, 

New  the  blades  of  the  silky  grass; 
Flowers,  that  were  buds  but  yesterday, 

Peep  from  the  ground  where'er  I  pass. 

These  gay  idlers,  the  butterflies, 

Broke,  to-day,  from  their  winter  shroud; 

These  light  airs,  that  winnow  the  skies. 
Blow,  just  born,  from  the  soft  white  cloud. 

Gushing  fresh  in  the  little  streams, 

What  a  prattle  the  waters  makel 
Even  the  sun,  with  his  tender  beams, 

Seems  as  young  as  the  flowers  they  wake. 

Children  are  wading,  with  cheerful  cries. 

In  the  shoals  of  the  sparkling  brook; 
Laughing  maidens,  with  soft  young  eyes. 

Walk  or  sit  in  the  shady  nook. 

Bryant. 


THE    PITCHER-PLANT 


«w^ 


Pitcher-Plant. 


SARRACENIA  PURPUREA  L, 


Deep  in  the  shady  sadness  of  a  vale 

Far  sunken  from  the  healthy  breath  of  morn, 

Far  from  the  fiery  noon,  and  eve's  one  star, 

Sat  gray-haired  Saturn,  quiet  as  a  stone. 

Still  as  the  silence  round  about  his  lair; 

Forest  on  forest  hung  about  his  head 

Like  cloud  on  cloud.    No  stir  of  air  was  there. 

Not  so  much  life  as  on  a  summer's  day 

Robs  not  one  light  seed  from  the  feathered  grass, 

But  where  the  dead  leaf  fell,  there  did  it  rest. 

A  stream  went  voiceless  by,  still  deadened  more 

By  reason  of  his  fallen  divinity 

Spreading  a  shade.    The  Naiad  'mid  her  reeds 

Pressed  hei  cold  finger  closer  to  her  lips. 

Along  the  margin-sand  large  footmarks  went. 

No  further  than  to  where  his  feet  had  strayed, 

And  slept  there  since.    Upon  the  sodden  ground 

His  old  right  hand  lay  nerveless,  listless,  dead, 

Unsceptred;  and  his  realmless  eyes  were  closed; 

While  his  bowed  head  seemed  listening  to  the  Earth, 

His  ancient  mother,  for  some  comfort  yet. 

Keats. 

This    incomparable    picture  of  a  swampy  vale  deep  in  the 
woods,  is  so  exactly  like  the  native  home  of  our  purple  Pitcher- 


FLOWERS   OF   THE   FIELD   AND   FOREST. 


l 
i 


I 


Plant,  that  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  transfer  it  to  our 
pages.  Mr.  Meehan  thinks  Longfellow  must  have  had  in  his 
thought  some  image  or  memory  of  our  southern  Pitcher-Plant 
when,  in  the  song  of  the  "  Slave  in  the  Dismal  Swamp,"  he 
made  this  life-like  picture  of  southern  vegetation, — 

Where  will-o'-the-wisps  and  glow-worms  shine, 

In  bulrush  and  in  brake; 
Where  waving  mosses  shroud  the  pine, 
And  the  cedar  grows,  and  the  poisonous  vine 

Is  spotted  like  the  snake; 

Where  hardly  a  human  foot  could  pass. 

Or  a  human  heart  would  dare, 
On  the  quaking  turf  of  the  green  morass 
He  crouched  in  the  rank  and  tangled  grass 

Like  a  wild  beast  in  his  lair. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  our  plant  is  common  all  along  our  eastern 
border  from  Newfoundland  to  Florida,  growing  in  bogs  and 
swampy  places,  and  flowering  in  the  early  summer.  This  plant 
introduces  us  to  one  of  the  most  interesting  fields  of  biological 
inquiry  that  has  been  opened  in  many  a  day.  I  refer  to  that 
curious  instance,  which  these  and  some  other  plants  illustrate,  in 
which  the  vegetable  kingdom  seems  to  reverse  the  ordinary  course 
of  nature  and  makes  reprisal  upon  the  animal  kingdom  for  its 
habitual  foraging.  In  this  as  in  many  other  departments  of  re- 
search the  interest  has  been  greatly  quickened,  almost  created, 
throughout  the  scientific  world,  by  the  magic  touch  of  that  one 
master  spirit  of  the  century,  Charles  Robert  Darwin, — now  alas, 
no  more  of  earth!  His  monograph  on  Insectivorous  Plants 
marks  an  era  in  this  department  of  botanical  science. 


THE   PITCHER-PLANT. 


( 


Insectivorous  plants  are  a  group  or  physiological  assemblage  of 
plants  which  belong  to  a  number  of  distinct  natural  orders.  "They 
agree  in  the  extraordinary  habit  of  adding  to  the  ordinary  supplies 
of  nitrogenous  material  afforded  them  in  common  with  other  plants 
by  the  soil  and  atmosphere,  by  the  capture  and  consumption  of 
insects  and  other  small  animals.  The  curious  and  varied  mechan- 
ical arrangements  by  which  these  supplies  of  animal  food  are 
obtained,  the  way  and  degrees  in  which  they  are  utilized,  and  the 
remarkable  chemical,  biological  and  electrical  phenomena  of  pre- 
hension and  utilization  can  only  be  fully  understood  by  a  separate 
and  somewhat  detailed  account  of  the  leading  orders  and  genera." 

To  give  that  would  not  come  within  the  purpose  of  this  paper, 
and  yet  I  think  I  may  be  able  to  embody  enough  of  this  strange 
knowledge  to  give  my  readers  some  adequate  idea  of  what  happens 
when  a  plant  devours  "insects  and  other  small  animals." 

Take  for  example  the  common  Sun-dew,  Drosera  rotundifolia, 
of  our  bogs  and  swamps.  It  has  a  circle  of  lon;Tf-stemmed  round 
leaves  which  spring  out  horizontally  from  the  bottom  of  the 
flower  stalk  near  the  ground.  These  leaves,  which  are  not  usually 
over  half  an  inch  diameter,  are  covered  pretty  thickly  above  with 
flexible  hairs,  or  tentacles,  to  the  number  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
or  more,  not  longer  than  two-thirds  of  the  diameter  of  the  leaf. 
Each  of  these  tentacles  bears  at  top  a  transparent  drop  of  viscid 
glistening  fluid  which  looks  very  like  a  drop  of  dew  in  the  early 
sunshine.  This  gives  the  plant  both  its  popular  and  its  scientific 
name. 

Insects  seem  to  be  attracted  to  the  leaves  of  this  plant,  perhaps 
by  its  glistening  appearance,  perhaps  by  its  odor  or  color,  or  by  all 
combined.     But  if  they  come  too  near,  or  dare  to  light  upon  its 


i  i 


FLOWERS   OF   THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

brilliant  leaves,  they  will  get  anything  but  a  friendly  welcome.  A 
fly  coming  in  contact  with  the  viscid  end  of  the  tentacles  finds  itself 
stuck  fast.  He  cannot  get  away  even  if  but  two  or  three  of  these 
silvery  dewdrops  touch  him.  But  his  struggles  to  do  so  awaken  the 
active  interest  of  all  the  neighboring  tentacles,  which  immediately 
bend  over  toward  him  and  fix  upon  him  their  adhesive  tops.  In 
fact  an  impulse  seems  to  be  spreading  over  the  whole  surface  of 
the  leaf,  which  sets  all  the  parts  into  sympathetic  activity.  The 
leaf  itself  soon  hollows  under  the  victim  and  rolls  up  its  edges, 
and  thrusts  down  upon  him  more  and  more  of  its  animated  bead- 
topped  hairs.  Slowly  he  is  pressed  down  upon  the  surface  of  the 
leaf,  drenched  in  the  abundant  fluid  which  the  leaf  and  its  tentacles 
secrete,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  so  he  is  dead. 

But  the  leaf  does  not  stop  there.  It  holds  its  dead  prey  in  its 
close  embrace  till  it  has  fully  digested  him,  for  its  tentacles  and 
its  superficial  cells  and  glands  constitute  a  true  stomach,  which 
secretes  digestive  fluids  and  deals  with  animal  substances  in 
exactly  the  same  way  that  the  animal  stomach  does.  The  nutri- 
tious resultants  of  this  digestive  process  are  absorbed  into  the 
tissues  of  the  plant  and  help  to  nourish  it.  A  chemical  analysis  of 
the  fluids  produced  in  this  vegetable  stomach,  and  a  careful  obser- 
vation of  their  action  upon  all  nitrogenous  substances  which  ordi- 
narily constitute  the  food  of  animals,  show  that  in  almost  all 
respects  it  runs  in  an  exact  parallel  with  the  functions  of  that 
organ  in  the  animal  economy.  It  appears  to  be  strictly  car- 
nivorous, as  it  will  not  digest  vegetable  or  purely  carboniferous 
substances,  such  as  gum-Arabic,  sugar,  starch,  olive  oil,  etc.  We 
have  then  here  the  leaf  of  a  plant  possessing  a  trne  animal 
function. 


THE   PITCHER-PLANT. 


ir* 


The  Venus  Fly-trap,  D'wncca  muscipuhi, a  native  of  southeastern 
North  Carolina,  is  another  carnivorous  plant.  At  the  extremity  of 
its  obcordate  leaves,  are  two  lobes  standing  at  something  less 
than  a  right  angle  to  each  other,  hinged  together  at  the  back  upon 
the  prolonged  midrib  of  the  leaf.  The  edges  of  these  lobes  are 
armed  with  long  spines  which  shut  by  and  between  each  other 
when  the  lobes  close.  Each  of  the  lobes  has  three  slender,  sharp, 
sensitive  hairs  placed  triangularly  some  little  distance  apart  upon 
its  inner  surface.  The  slightest  touch  upon  either  of  these  hairs, 
as  the  lighting  upon  it  of  the  smallest  insect,  or  brushing  it  with 
their  wings,  or  touching  it  with  their  legs  or  bodies  as  they  crawl 
over  the  surface,  causes  the  lobes  to  shut  together  like  a  trap, 
instantly  imprisoning  the  unwary  victim.  If  he  be  not  too  large 
to  pass  between  the  closed  teeth  at  the  edge  of  the  lobes  he  may 
escape.  Otherwise  he  is  doomed,  for  the  leaf  immediately  pours 
out  upon  him  from  glands  specially  provided  an  abundance  of 
digestive  fluid  which   soon  kills  and  dissolves  him. 

As  with  the  Sundew  so  with  the  Dioncca,  a  true  digestive 
process  takes  place  perfectly  analogous  to  that  in  the  animal  econ- 
omy and  the  plant  gets  much  nourishment  from  this  source  of 
food  supply.  It  has  been  observed  that  plants  provided  with  this 
special  adaptation  for  securing  food  have  smaller  roots  than  other 
kinds  of  plants  not  so  furnished.  There  are  several  other  genera 
of  plants  that  possess  this  extraordinary  function,  which  we  have 
heretofore  considered  an  exclusive  attribute  of  animal  life. 

But  in  the  Saryaccnia  we  have  the  case  of  plants  adapted  to 
capture  and  devour  insects,  but  with  no  ability  truly  to  digest  them. 
While  they  entrap  and  destroy  great  numbers  of  them  and  are 
obviously  contrived  especially  to  do  that,  they  make  use  of  them 


FLOWERS   OF   THE    FIELD   AND   FOREST. 


analogous  to  the  processes  of  plant 


as  nourishment  in  a  way  more 

life  than  do  the  Droscni  and  Dkmcca. 

We  are  indebted  to  an  admirable  study  of  Sarmccnia  vario- 
lai'is,  published  in  1874,  by  Dr.  Mellichamp  of  South  Carolina, 
for  the  best  report  yet  made  of  the  insect-capturing  habit  of 
the  Pitcher-Plant.  The  species  above-named  is  larger  than  the 
one  so  accurately  represented  in  our  plate.  It  has  yellow  flowers, 
and  the  trumpet-shaped  "pitcher"  is  from  ten  to  twenty  inches 
long,  and  is  covered  at  top  with  an  overarching  hood  which  quite 
effectually  excludes  the  rain.  It  grows  common  in  the  South  and 
is  often  transplanted  into  the  house  to  serve  as  a  domestic  fly-trap. 
It  is  furnished  with  the  necessary  appliances  for  capturing  insects 
in  this  way.  Along  the  leaf  border  or  wing  of  the  pitcher  quite 
down  to  the  ground  are  secreted  at  regular  short  intervals  drops  of 
a  sweet  liquid  which  is  very  palatable  to  flies,  ants,  bugs,  and  other 
insects.  These  make  a  baited  path,  or  honey-trail  straight  up  the 
leaf  to  the  open  mouth  of  the  pitcher  at  top.  Around  the  margin 
of  the  mouth  and  well  down  the  interior  the  sugary  drops  exude. 
Of  course  the  hungry  insect  led  up  the  honeyed  road  of  danger 
presses  on  regardless  of  peril,  over  the  margin,  down  into  the  open 
mouth  of  the  pitcher,  mindful  only  of  the  abundant  sweets.  But  he 
soon  comes  to  a  place  on  the  inner  surface  of  the  pitcher  where  he 
cannot  maintain  his  foothold.  The  surface  for  several  inches  is 
there  covered  with  a  velvety  nap  of  downward-pointing  smooth 
hairs. 

An  ant,  or  any  other  wingless  insect,  directly  he  steps  upon 
this  treacherous  surface  falls  into  the  depths,  where  he  finds  the 
narrowing  space  for  several  inches  beset  on  all  sides  with  long 
sharp  spines  pointing  inward  and  downward.     His  frantic  efforts 


\ 


THE   PITCHHR-PLANT. 


to  escape  only  serve  therefore  to  push  him  further  and  further 
toward  the  bottom.  But  before  he  reaches  that  he  will  find  himself 
plunged  into  a  watery  liquid  which  the  leaf  secretes,  and  which 
acts  upon  him  first  as  a  powerful  narcotic  or  anaesthetic,  and  when 
he  is  once  dead,  as  a  dissolvent  which  will  quickly  change  his 
tissue  into  a  "liquid  fertilizer "  wherewith  to  nourish  the  hungry 
plant. 

Winged  insects  in  most  cases  fare  but  little  better,  for  if 
they  fly  directly  upward  when  they  lose  their  foothold,  they 
strike  their  heads  against  the  overarching  hood,  and  are  perhaps 
beaten  back  too  far  to  recover  themselves  before  they  are  en- 
gulfed, or  take  a  zigzag  course  downward  to  their  destruction. 
At  all  events,  the  long  tube  of  this  plant  is  often  found  a  quarter 
or  half  full  of  dead  or  decaying  insects.  That  our  common 
Pitcher-Plant  carries  on  the  same  business  less  perfectly,  though 
with  no  different  purpose,  may  be  seen  by  examining  any  well 
developed  leaf  with  its  tube  lined  with  bristling  downward-pointing 
spines,  and  half  filled  with  a  watery  liquid  and  drowned  insects. 

The  flower  of  this  plant  is  certainly  a  very  singular  one. 
The  pistil  consists  of  an  enormous  style,  which  resembles  a  par- 
asol or  a  toadstool  more  than  anything  else,  with  the  stigma  in 
small  patches  under  the  tips  of  its  lobes.  The  petals,  notched 
in  like  a  fiddle,  pass  out  between  the  re-entrant  angles  of  the 
expanded  style. 

The  origin  as  well  as  the  appropriateness  of  the  English 
popular  name  of  this  plant,  the  "  Side-saddle  Flower,"  appears  to 
be  undiscoverable.  The  generic  name  was  given  in  honor  of  Dr. 
Sarrazin,  of  Quebec,  who,  many  years  ago,  first  sent  specimens 
of  this  plant,  with  some  account  of  its  habits,  to  European  bot- 


!l 


!  i 


FLOWERS   OF   THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

anists.  This  genus,  which  contains  some  six  or  eight  exclusively 
American  species,  is  closely  related  to  the  Darlingtottia,  a  curi- 
ously hooded  Pitcher-Plant  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  mountains,  and 
the  still  more  singular  Nepenthes,  from  the  islands  of  the  Indian 
Ocean,  which  have  tendril-like  prolongations  of  the  leaf,  some- 
times two  feet  or  more  long,  becoming  at  their  ends,  perfectly 
developed  pitchers. 

Altogether,  when  we  get  among  these  plants  with  such  strange 
forms  and  such  wonderful  habits  and  functions,  we  can  begin  to 
understand  something  of  what  our  Longfellow  meant  when  he 
wrote  of  that  great  naturalist,  his  well-beloved  friend,  Agassiz; 

And  Nature,  the  old  nurse,  took 

The  child  upon  her  knee, 
Saying:  "Here  is  a  story-book 

Thy  Father  has  written  for  thee.'* 

"Come  wander  with  me,"  she  said, 

"Into  regions  yet  untrod; 
And  read  what  is  still  unread 

In  the  manuscripts  of  God." 

And  he  wandered  away  and  away 

With  Nature,  the  dear  old  nurse, 
Who  sang  to  him,  night  and  day. 

The  rhymes  of  the  universe. 

And  whenever  the  way  seemed  long, 

Or  his  heart  began  to  fail. 
She  would  sing  a  more  wonderful  song. 

Or  tell  a  more  marvellous  tale. 


1. 


.1 


The    Pale   Laurel. 


KALMIA  GLAUCA  Ait. 


Now  swells  the  forest,  calm  and  wide, 

In  rippling  waves  of  deepest  green, 
And  all  the  rugged  mountain  side 

Through  billowy  curves  is  seen; 
The  roadsides  meet  in  ample  shade, 

With  showers  of  light  and  golden  glooms, 
And  bubbling  up  the  rocky  ways 

The  clustered  Laurel  blooms. 

Each  chalice  holds  the  infinite  air. 

Each  rounded  cluster  grows  a  sphere; 
A  twilight  pale  she  grants  us  there, 

A  rosier  sunrise  here; 
She  broods  above  the  happy  earth, 

She  dwells  upon  the  enchanted  days, — 
A  thousand  voices  hail  her  birth 

In  chants  of  love  and  praise ! 

Elaine  Goodale. 

■  There  are  three  species  of  Laurel  common  in  the  United  States, 
the  most  showy  being  the  Mountain  Laurel,  a  conspicuous  upland 
shrub,  growing  from  four  to  twenty  feet  high,  and  crowned  in  mid- 
summer with  splendid  corymbs  of  rose-colored  blossoms.     From 


III. 


4: 


I'r 


a 


FLOWERS   OF   THE   FIELD   AND   FOREST. 

this  is  easily  distinguished  the  Dwarf  Laurel  of  the  lov/er  hills  and 
plains,  by  its  smaller  plant  and  flower,  and  by  the  fact  that  its  blos- 
soms are  produced  below  the  ends  of  the  branches.  Our  Pale 
Laurel  grows  in  peat-bogs  and  other  swampy  places,  and  differs 
from  both  the  others  by  flowering  in  the  spring,  and  by  having  nar- 
row leaves  which  are  folded  back  along  the  edges  and  covered 
on  the  under  side  with  a  white  bloom  or  dust,  whence  the  name. 
Pale  Laurel.  The  flower  of  the  Laurel  is  unique,  the  corolla 
not  imperfectly  resembling  a  saucer  in  shape. 

Kahria  is  an  American  genus,  though  the  Heath  family,  to 
which  it  belongs,  is  famous  in  the  Old  World,  especially  in  the  Brit- 
ish Isles,  where  the  Heather,  the  favorite  of  the  poets,  often  forms 
no  inconsiderable  element  in  the  beauty  of  otherwise  barren  moor- 
lands. Its  nearest  relatives  here  are  the  Azalia,  Rhodora,  Blue- 
berry, Cranberry,  Huckleberry,  etc.,  and  some  other  like  shrubs; 
though  it  by  no  means  bears  so  good  a  reputation  as  these  last- 
named  useful  plants.  It  has  the  name  of  being  decidedly  poison- 
ous, and  the  Dwarf  Laurel  has  a  popular  title,  the  Lambkill  or 
Sheep-Laurel,  which  indicates  this.  How  well  it  deserves  its  bad 
fame  I  know  not. 

From  time  out  of  mind  the  poets  have  spoken  of  the  Laurel  as 
the  particular  plant  whose  leaves  make  the  victor's  wreath. 

"The  Laurel,  meed  of  mighty  conquerors, 
And  poets  sage." 

But  the  Laurel  of  our  hillsides  and  plains  was  never  used  to 
crown  poets  or  conquerors  in  ancient  Greece  and  Rome.  The  plant 
whose  leaves  were  plaited  into  coronal  wreaths,  is  the  Sweet  Bay, 
or  Noble  Laurel,  a  tree-like  shrub  of  Southern  Europe. 

The   name   is   from  the    Celtic  laur,  green,  and  refers   to   its 


r/ 


THE   PALE   LAUREL, 


I 


evergreen  foliage.  The  American  Laurel  gets  its  generic  name 
Kalmia  from  Linnaeus  in  honor  of  a  friend  and  pupil,  a  Swedish 
botanist  by  the  name  of  Peter  Kalm,  who  travelled  extensively  in 
this  country,  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  and  sent  specimens 
of  the  plant  to  him. 

"Kalm,"  says  Prof.  Meehan,  "was  no  common  man.  He  was 
born  in  Finland  in  17 15,  and  was  destined  for  the  church;  but  after 
attending  a  course  of  lectures  by  Linnaeus,  he  determined  to  devote 
his  whole  life  to  the  study  of  natural  history.  He  was  subse- 
quently elected  Professor  of  Economy  in  the  University  of  Abo, 
which,  until  its  destruction  by  fire,  and  removal  to  Helsingfors  in 
1827,  was  one  of  the  leading  centres  of  learning  in  the  north  of 
Europe.  The  Royal  Swedish  Academy  desired  to  send  some  one 
to  explore  the  northern  parts  of  the  American  continent,  believing 
from  the  similarity  of  the  climate  that  much  good  would  result  to 
Swedish  Agriculture,  and  the  kindred  arts  and  sciences ;  and  on  the 
recommendation  of  Linnaeus,  Prof.  Kalm  was  selected  and  a  practi- 
cal gardener  detailed  to  accompany  him.  He  reached  Philadelphia 
in  September,  1748.  He  went  in  1749  through  New  Jersey,  and 
along  the  Hudson  to  Albany,  thence  across  Lakes  George  and 
Champlain  to  Canada.  Returning  again  to  winter  in  Philadel- 
phia, the  next  year  he  explored  western  Pennsylvania,  the  Blue 
Mountains,  and  the  coast  of  New  Jersey;  and  went  again  through 
New  York  to  Niagara  Falls,  returning  to  Philadelphia  in  October." 
All  this  was  no  small  undertaking  in  a  country  then  almost  entirely 
an  unbroken  and  trackless  wilderness;  and  Kalm  had  many  peril- 
ous adventures. 

Though  the  genus  is  dedicated  to  Kalm  it  was  known  before 
his  day,  for  we   are  assured  by  Prof.  Meehan,  Banister,  an  early 


I 


I 


FLOWERS    OF    THE    FIELD   AND    FOREST. 

Virginia  botanist,  had  made  Ray,  the  celebrated  English  natu- 
ralist, acquainted  with  it.  The  plant  was  sent  in  a  living  state  by 
Bartram  to  Collinson  in  England,  in  1730.  So  I  suppose  by  right 
this  beautiful  genus  of  American  plants  should  have  commemorated 
the  name  of  one  or  the  other  of  these  early  and  enthusiastic  Amer- 
ican botanists  rather  than  that  of  the  foreign  explorer  from  the  far 
away  shores  of  the  Baltic.  But  no  doubt  the  modest  Quaker  nat- 
uralist was  quite  satisfied  that  his  friend  and  correspondent  from 
over  the  seas  should  be  associated  with  one  of  our  most  inter- 
esting flowers. 

If  one  examines  a  newly-opened  flower  he  will  find  that  around 
the  edge  of  the  bottom  of  the  saucer-shaped  part  of  the  corolla 
there  are  ten  little  pockets,  and  that  into  each  one  of  these  is  thrust 
an  anther,  the  filament  arching  over  from  it  and  running  down  into 
the  tube  of  the  corolla,  by  the  side  of  the  pistil,  which  runs  up 
rather  high  and  stiff  in  the  centre.  Now  it  is  found  that  the  fila- 
ments of  the  stamens  are  elastic,  and  that  if  by  a  little  quick  blow 
upon  the  corolla,  or  by  pushing  the  edge  of  it  out,  the  anther  in  the 
pocket  is  liberated,  it  will  fly  up  with  a  quick  motion.  It  is  also 
found  that  the  pollen  is  held  in  two  little  sacs  which  open  by 
small  holes  at  the  top,  and  therefore  that  the  whole  stamen  is  not 
unlike  a  piece  of  whale-bone  with  two  quills  tied  to  the  end,  filled 
with  fine  shot.  If  the  whale-bone  is  bent  and  then  the  end  sud- 
denly released,  it  will  spring  forward  and  the  shot  will  be  pro- 
jected some  distance.  So  Dr.  Gray  says,  the  stamen  is  a  contriv- 
ance for  discharging  pollen  at  some  object.  "  If  the  stigma  around 
which  the  stamens  are  marshalled,  be  that  object,  the  target  is  a 
small  one;  yet  some  one  or  more  of  the  ten  shot  might  hit  the 
mark.     But  the  discharges  can  hardly  ever  take  place  at  all  with- 


THE  PALE   LAUREL. 

out  the  aid  of  an  insect.  Bees  are  the  insects  thus  far  observed  to 
frequent  these  flowers ;  and  it  is  interesting  to  watch  the  operations 
of  a  humble-bee  upon  them.  The  bee,  remaining  on  the  wing, 
circles  for  a  moment  over  each  flower,  thrusting  its  proboscis  all 
round  the  ovaiy  at  the  bottom ;  in  doing  this  it  jostles  and  lets  off 
the  springs,  and  receives  upon  the  under  side  of  it*?  body  and  its 
legs  successive  charges  of  pollen.  Flying  to  another  blossom,  it 
brings  its  yellow-dusted  body  against  the  stigma,  and  commonly 
revolving  on  it  as  on  a  pivot,  while  it  sucks  the  nec'ar  in  the 
bottom  of  the  flower-cups,  liberates  the  ten  bowed  stamens,  and 
receives  fresh  charges  of  pollen  from  that  flower  when  fertilizing  it 
with  the  pollen  of  the  preceding  one.  This  account  is  founded  on 
the  observations  of  Prof.  Beal  of  Michigan,  who  also  states  that 
when  a  cluster  of  blossoms  is  covered  with  fine  gauze,  no  stamen 
gets  liberated  of  itself,  while  fit  for  action,  and  no  seed  sets."  So 
the  Laurel  feeds  the  bee,  and  the  bee  in  turn  pollenizes  the 
Laurel  and  makes  it  fruitful.  The  plentiful  flowers  of  the  Pale 
Laurel  will  help  to  make  and  adorn  such  a  scene  in  nature  as 
this  which  the  poet  paints,  every  word  a  pigment. 

The  sun  of  May  was  bright  in  middle  heaven, 
And  steeped  the  sprouting  forests,  the  green  hills, 
And  emerald  wheat-fields,  in  his  yellow  light. 
Upon  the  apple-tree,  where  rosy  buds 
Stood  clustered,  ready  to  burst  forth  in  bloom, 
The  robin  warbled  forth  his  full  clear  note 
For  hours,  and  wearied  not.    Within  the  woods, 
Whose  young  and  half  transparent  leaves  scarce  cast 
A  shade,  gay  circles  of  anemones 

Danced  on  their  stalks;   the  shad-bush,  white  with  flowers, 
Brightened  the  glens;    the  new-leaved  butternut 


FLOWERS   OF   THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

And  quivering  poplar  to  the  roving  breeze 

Gave  a  balsamic  fragrance.     In  the  fields 

I  saw  the  pulses  of  the  gentle  wind 

On  the  young  grass.    My  heart  was  touched  with  joy 

At  so  much  beauty,  flushing  every  hour 

Into  a  fuller  beti  ity. 

Bryan/. 


i 


( 


THE    MEADOW    BEAUTY. 


i    s 

f  1'' 


i 


1    ■ 

1   ■ 

t             ■ 

1  .i 

'■' 

The  Meadow  Beauty. 


RHEXIA   VIRGINICA  L, 


A  THING  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever  : 

Its  loveliness  increases;   it  will  never 

Pass  into  nothingness;   but  will  keep 

A  bower  quiet  for  us,  and  a  sleep 

Full  of  sweet  dreams,  and  health,  and  quiet  breathing. 

Therefore,  on  every  morrow  are  we  wreathing 

A  flowery  band  to  bind  us  to  the  earth. 

Spite  of  despondence,  of  the  inhuman  dearth 

Of  noble  natures,  of  the  gloomy  days. 

Of  all  the  unhealthy  and  o'er-darkened  ways 

Made  for  our  searching:   yes,  in  spite  of  all, 
Some  shape  of  beauty  moves  above  the  pall 
From  our  dark  spirits.     Such  the  sun,  the  moon, 
Trees  old  and  young,  sprouting  a  shady  boon 
For  simple  sheep;   and  such  are  daffodils 
With  the  green  world  they  live  in;   the  clear  rills 
That  for  themselves  a  cooling  covert  make 
'Gainst  the  hot  season;  the  mid-forest  brake, 
Rich  with  a  sprinkling  of  fair  musk-rose  blooms: 
And  such,  too,  is  the  grandeur  of  the  dooms 
We  have  imagined  for  the  mighty  dead ; 
All  lovely  tales  that  we  have  heard  or  read: 
An  endless  fountain  of  immortal  drink. 
Pouring  into  us  from  the  heavens'  brink. 

Keats. 


i:k 


I  lit 


1!  % 


5        I!' 


d 


FLOWERS   OF   THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

Nobody  seems  to  know  why  so  beautiful  a  flower  has  so 
barbarous  a  name.  Though  some,  curious  in  these  things,  have 
traced  the  name  all  the  way  back  to  Pliny,  who  knew  a  plant  of 
that  name,  they  are  still  driven  to  the  conclusion  so  sententiously 
expressed  by  Dr.  Gray,  that  "  Rhexia  has  been  applied  to  this 
genus  without  obvious  reason."  It  is  thought  to  have  some 
value  as  a  "  vulnerary,"  or,  in  other  words,  to  be  useful  in  the 
cure  of  wounds.  Whatever  may  be  said  about  its  scientific, 
nobody  will  call  in  question  the  peculiar  fitness  of  its  popular 
name.  It  surely  is  "a  thing  of  beauty,"  and  so,  by  the  poet's 
logic,  "a  joy  forever." 

It  affects  swamps  and  damp  meadows  as  its  favorite  haunts, 
and  has  a  pretty  wide  distribution  throughout  the  eastern  United 
States.  A  singular  fact  about  it  is  that  it  is  the  only  represen- 
tative in  our  northern  regions  of  an  enormously  large  order  of 
plants  native  in  tropical  America.  The  order  contains  a  thousand 
species  or  more ;  and  out  of  them  all,  only  this  solitary  one  has 
had  the  courage  to  emigrate  north  or  undertake  to  live  beyond 
the  thirtieth  parallel. 

A  striking  peculiarity  of  the  order  is  the  strongly  ribbed 
leaves,  the  ribs  varying  from  three,  in  the  Rhexia,  to  as  many 
as  nine  in  other  genera.  Another  noticeable  peculiarity  of  this 
order  is  the  long  curved  anther  which  is  attached  to  the  filament 
at  the  middle.  It  usually  has  also  an  additional  process  like  a 
spur  appearing  near  the  point  of  attachment,  as  may  be  seen  in 
this  species.  Prof.  Goodale  says,  "the  pollen  consists  of  ex- 
tremely minute  grains  which  escape  through  a  pore  at  the  apex 
of  the  tapering  anther."  I  have  recently  seen  the  statement 
made  by  some  observer,  that   the  larger  end   of   the  anther  is  a 


THE   MEADOW   BEAUTY. 


kind  of  inflated  air  sac,  with  thin  walls,  which  when  pressed  upon 
or  struck,  as  when  an  insect  lights  upon  it  or  touches  it  with  his 
rapidly  moving  wings,  it  acts  like  a  bellows  and  blows  little 
puffs  or  jets  of  pollen  dust  out  of  the  small  pore  at  the  end. 
Thus  the  stigma  of  the  flower  or  the  insect  himself  gets  abun- 
dantly besprinkled  with  the  fertilizing  powder,  which  we  can  easily 
see  he  might  convey  to  other  Rhexia  blooms. 

We  can  scarcely  look  upon  so  beautiful  a  wild-flower  as  this 
without  asking  ourselves  how  came  these  colors  and  these  strange 
forms  of  beauty?  Are  they  for  themselves  alone?  Or  are  they 
to  please  the  aesthetic  taste  of  the  beholder,  for 

"  Since  eyes  were  made  for  seeing 
Beauty  is  its  own  excuse  for  being." 

Still,  it  must  be  remembered  if  we  think  we  will  make  that 
answer,  that, — 

"Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen 
And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air." 

And,  ages  and  ages  after  the  flowers  began  to  bloom,  there  was 
upon  the  earth  no  beauty-drinking  eye  to  quaff  ethereal  sweetness 
from  their  tinted  petals.  Did  they  serve  no  good  end  in  all  those 
vast  periods? 

The  naturalist,  who  thinks  he  must  find  a  reason  for  everything 
he  sees  in  nature,  has  undertaken  to  show  how  plants  came  to 
have  flowers  at  all ;  that  is,  of  course,  petals,  or  colored  sepals,  the 
sho  v^,'  parts  of  the  flower,  for  all  kinds  of  plants  except  the  very 
lowest  have  the  essential  parts  of  a  flower,  the  staminate  and  pis- 
tilate  elements  and  mechanism.  To  state  the  naturalist's  conclu- 
sion broadly  I  should  say,  the  floral  envelope  has  been  evolved, 


. 


Il    i 


FLOWERS   OF   THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


i 


\   i 

J 
ii4 


u 


1  .^ 


by  means  of  insects,  and  for  the  purpose  of  further  securing 
their  help  in  the  act  of  pollenization.  That  insects  have  some- 
thing important  to  do  with  the  showy  dress  of  the  flower  may 
be  inferred  on  general  grounds  from  the  fact  that  such  plants 
as  depend  upon  the  wind  to  carry  their  pollen  from  anther  to 
stigma,  like  the  pines  and  other  cone-bearing  trees,  the  grasses, 
and  notably  our  Indian  corn,  have  no  colored  flower  at  all; 
while  the  plants  that  manifestly  seek,  or  at  all  events  are  ben- 
efited by,  the  help  of  insects  in  pollenization  are  furnished  by 
nature  with  floral  appendages  more  or  less  showy  and  attractive. 

I  do  not  want  to  be  understood  to  say  that  the  insect  comes 
to  the  flower  because  he  admires  the  brilliant  colors  of  its  petals, 
but  because  he  finds  a  toothsome  drop  of  nectar  in  its  cup  or  in 
its  tender  surface-cells.  The  color  of  the  flower  is  but  a  sign  to 
advertise  him  where  a  good  dinner  may  be  had  for  the  taking. 
It  may  be  assumed  that  even  in  apetalous  flowers  he  has  al- 
ready got  a  taste  of  nature's  sweets.  Then  any  change,  however 
slight,  of  stamens  into  petaloid  shapes,  with  ever  so  little  addition 
of  color,  would  be  an  advantage  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  to 
any  flower  possessing  it,  an  advantage  likely  to  be  transmitted 
and  to  be  improved  upon  as  the  genciations  went  by. 

At  first,  the  flowers  would  be  yellow,  the  petals  being  only 
slightly  modified  stamens,  which  are  usually  of  that  color.  A  still 
further  development  would  produce  white,  red  or  pink,  and  last  of 
all,  purple,  blue,  and  violet  flowers.  We  infer  that  this  was  the 
order  of  the  evolution  of  color  in  flowers,  for  two  reasons:  The 
first  is,  because  we  find  a  correlation  between  the  flowers  of  certain 
colors,  and  insects  of  certain  degrees  of  development  in  respect  to 
their    honey-gathering    function.      Mr.    Grant  Allen,  an  English 


THE   MEADOW   BEAUTY. 


writer,  says,  "Thus,  to  take  a  few  examples  out  of  hundreds  that 
might  be  cited,  the  flowers  which  lay  themselves  out  for  fertiliz- 
ation by  miscellaneous  small  flies,  are  almost  always  white ;  those 
which  depend  upon  the  beetles  are  generally  yellow ;  while  those 
which  bid  for  the  favor  of  bees  and  butterflies  are  usually  red, 
purple,  lilac  or  blue.  Down  to  the  minutest  distinctions  between 
species,  this  correlation  of  flowers  to  the  tastes  of  their  particular 
guests  seems  to  hold  good.  Herman  Muller  notes  that  the  com- 
mon galium  of  our  heaths  and  hedges  is  white,  and  is  visited  by 
small  flies,  while  its  near  relative,  the  lady's  bedstraw,  is  yellow, 
and  owes  its  fertilization  to  little  beetles.  Fritz  Muller  noticed  a 
lantana  in  South  America,  which  changes  color  as  its  flowering 
advances;  and  he  observed  that  each  kind  of  butterfly  which 
visited  it,  stuck  rigidly  to  its  own  favorite  color,  waiting  to  pay  its 
addresses  until  that  color  appeared.", 

We  thus  see  how  the  special  tastes  of  insects  may  have  become 
the  selective  agency  for  developing  white,  pink,  red,  purple  and 
blue  petals,  from  the  original  yellow  ones.  But,  before  they  could 
exercise  such  a  selective  action,  the  petals  must  themselves  have 
shown  some  tendency  to  vary  in  certain  fixed  directions.  An 
investigator,  who  has  given  much  study  to  the  coloring  matter  of 
plants  and  its  chemical  nature  and  action,  gives  us  a  point  here, 
which  will,  perhaps,  solve  this  part  of  our  problem.  He  assures 
us  that  the  pigments  for  all  of  these  colors  are  laid  up  in  all  plants, 
and  only  need  to  be  slightly  modified  in  chemical  constitution,  in 
order  to  make  them  into  the  blues,  pinks,  and  purples,  with  which 
we  are  familiar. 

Another  reason  for  supposing  that  the  evolution  of  color  in 
flowers  has  been  along  the  line  indicated  above,  is,  that  we  see 


h  f. 


FLOWERS   OF  THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

many  flowers  follow  that  track  in  their  individual  development. 
A  common  English  forget-me-not  is  pale  yellow  when  it  first 
opens,  then  changes  to  pink,  and  ends  by  being  blue.  A  wall-flower 
is  first  whitish,  then  yellow,  and  finally  red  or  blue.  An  evening 
primrose  has  white  flowers  at  first,  but  at  a  later  period  of  develop- 
ment, red  ones.  Cobaa  scandens,  which  has  been  flowering  lux- 
uriantly and  blossoming  perfectly  in  my  study  all  winter,  has 
constantly  shown  this  kind  of  evolution  of  color.  It  is  first  green, 
then  lightens  much  into  a  very  pale-green,  or  white,  and  then 
begins  to  develop  toward  purple,  passing  in  some  cases  as  I 
noticed,  through  a  pronounced  pink.  Its  final  color  is  a  strong- 
purple.  The  garden  convolvulus  opens,  a  blushing  white,  and 
passes  into  a  full  purple.  When  changes  in  the  color  of 
flowers  take  place  during  the  process  of  growth,  they  are,  so 
far  as  has  been  observed,  all  in  this,  and  never  in  the  opposite 
direction. 

There  can  scarcely  be  good  reason  to  question,  I  suppose,  that 
the  evolution  of  flowers  and  of  honey-eating  insects  has  gone  on 
side  by  side,  each  helping  the  other.  In  given  cases,  the  color  and 
form  of  the  floral  envelope,  the  nature  of  the  honey  sack,  together 
with  the  position  of  the  stamens  and  pistil,  are  all  correlated  with 
the  specialized  organs  and  particular  habits  of  the  insect  tribe 
whose  help  is  depended  upon  in  the  act  of  pollenization.  Owing 
something,  then,  to  the  agency  of  insects  for  the  possession  of  all 
the  exquisite  beauty  and  sweetness  of  flowers,  I  can  make  no 
more  appropriate  ending  fqr  this  paper,  than  by  quoting  a  few  lines 
from  Emerson's  "Humble-bee." 


'I     i 

?      1 


Hot  mid-summer's  petted  crone, 
Sweet  to  me  thy  drowsy  tone, 


THE  MEADOW   BEAUTY. 


Tells  of  countless  sunny  hours, 
Long  days,  and  solid  banks  of  flowerSt 
Aught  unsavory  or  unclean 
Hath  my  insect  never  seen; 
But  violets  Jind  bilberry  bells, 
Maple-sap  and  dafFodels, 
Grass  with  green  flag  half-mast  high, 
Succory  to  match  the  sky, 
Columbine  w^ith  horn  of  honey, 
Scented  fern  and  agrimony. 
Clover,  catch-fly,  adder's-tongue, 
And  brier  roses  dwelt  among; 
All  beside  was  unknown  waste, 
All  was  picture  as  he  passed. 
Wiser  far  than  human  seer, 
Yellow-breeched  philosopher. 
Seeing  only  what  is  fair, 
Sipping  only  what  is  sweet. 
Thou  dost  mock  at  fate  and  care 
Leave  the  chaff*  and  take  the  wheat. 


■'■'    I 


i: 


h 


\S* 


I^r 


; 


! 


The  Bur-Marigold. 


BIDENS  CHRYSANTHEMOIDES  Michaux, 


The  quiet  August  noon  has  come; 

A  slumbrous  silence  fills  the  sky, 
The  fields  are  still,  the  woods  are  dumb, 

In  glassy  sleep  the  waters  lie. 

And  mark  yon  sofl  white  clouds  that  rest 
Above  our  vale,  a  moveless  throng; 

The  cattle  on  the  mountain's  breast 
Enjoy  the  grateful  shadow  long. 

Oh,  how  unlike  the  merry  hours, 

In  early  June,  when  earth  laughs  out. 

When  the  fresh  winds  make  love  to  flowers 
And  woodlands  sing,  and  waters  shout. 

But  now  a  joy  too  deep  for  sound, 
A  peace  no  other  season  knows. 

Hushes  the  heavens  and  wraps  the  ground, 
The  blessing  of  supreme  repose. 

Beneath  the  open  sky  abroad, 

Among  the  plants  and  breathing  things, 
The  sinless,  peaceful  works  of  God, 

I'll  share  the  calm  the  season  brings. 

Bryant, 


FLOWERS   OF  THE   FlfcLD  AND   FOREST. 


It  is  in  the  midst  of  a  scene  like  this,  in  the  full-orbed  sum- 
mer, in  the  peaceful  quiet  of  a  season  which  has  got  through  the 
hurry  and  bustle  of  life,  has  finished  mainly  the  intense  business 
of  growth,  the  making  of  flowers  and  foliage,  and  just  now  pauses, 
a  little  drowsy  with  the  heat,  that  the  Bur-Marigold  may  be  seen 
dotting  the  lowland  meadows  and  swamps  with  its  brilliant  flowers. 
It  is  a  plant  of  much  beauty  and  interest,  and  will  well  repay  a 
close  acquaintance.  It  is  a  stout  herb,  from  one  to  three  feet 
high,  with  smooth,  lanceolate,  toothed,  opposite  leaves,  bearing  a 
few  large,  showy  flowers,  as  seen  in  the  plate. 

It  belongs  to  a  genus  which  has  some  fifty  or  more  species 
scattered  over  the  tropical  and  temperate  zones,  some  even  being 
found  in  the  arctic  regions.  It  is  a  member  of  that  largest  order 
of  flowering  plants  known  as  the  Compositae,  plants  which  have 
a  large  number  of  flowers  crowded  together  in  a  common  recep- 
tacle or  head,  like  the  Dahlia,  Dandelion,  Marigold,  etc.  In  the 
other  plants  each  fertile  flower  produces  a  seed-vessel  containing 
from  a  few  to  a  very  great  number  of  seeds.  In  this  order  there 
ii  but  one  5>eed  to  each  flower,  and  no  proper  seed-vessel  at  all. 

In  the  Compositae  the  individual  flowers  are  necessarily  very 
small,  being  packed  together  so  closely  in  the  head.  But  they 
usually  contain  all  the  parts  of  the  true  flower.  The  corolla  is 
contracted  into  a  narrow  tube  toothed  at  the  top,  the  stamens 
adhering  together  by  their  anthers  from  another  tube  inside  of 
this.  The  pistil,  forked  at  top,  pushes  up  through  the  inner 
tube  of  anthers,  and,  having  its  stigmatic  surface  covered  with 
teeth-like  processes,  combs  off  much  of  the  pollen  and  so  is  sure 
to  be  fertilized. 

The  calyx  does   not  usually  develop  till  after  the  rest  of   the 


THE  'BUR-MARIGOLD. 


flower  has  withered  and  fallen  away,  when  it  takes  its  chance  for 
development,  and  grows  into  bristles,  hairs,  scales,  awns,  teeth,  etc., 
upon  the  top  of  the  seed.  The  thistle-down  is  a  good  example  of 
this ;  likewise,  the  two  barbed  teeth  which  crown  the  top  of  the 
flat  seeds  in  our  present  plant.  The  curious  and  interesting 
arrangement  of  these  seeds  in  the  head,  I  may  have  occasion  to 
speak  of  in  another  place. 

The  great  family  of  the  Composite  flowers,  which  numbers  about 
12,000  species,  or  one-tenth  of  all  flowering  plants,  is  divided  into 
three  groups,  according  as  each  separate  flower  in  the  head  has  a 
strap-shaped  floral  appendage,  as  in  the  dandelion,  or  these  floral 
parts  occur  only  around  the  margin  of  the  head,  like  rays,  as  in  the 
Marigold  and  Sunflower,  or  are  absent  altogether,  as  in  the  This- 
tle. These  groups  are  still  farther  divided  and  subdivided  on  other 
points  of  difference.  The  plants  of  this  great  order  are  mostly 
characterized  by  an  acrid  or  stringent  juice,  which  makes  many  of 
them  serviceable  in  medicine,  while  some  are  very  poisonous. 

The  scientific  name  of  the  genus  Bidens,  means  two  teeth,  and 
is  given  in  recognition  of  the  two  awns  before  referred  to,  with 
which  the  seeds  are  provided.  These  barbed  teeth  serve  an 
excellent  purpose,  as  minute  grappling-hooks  to  attach  the  seeds  to 
the  fleece  or  hair  of  animals,  the  plumage  of  birds,  and  the  clothing 
of  men,  thereby  widely  distributing  them  from  the  neighborhood 
of  the  mother  plant. 

In  the  usage  of  sentiment  Mr.  Hulme  sa>'s,  "  The  Pansy  and 
Marigold  are  associated  together  as  emblems  of  sorrow,  and  cards 
having  wreaths  of  ^hese  two  flowers  painted  on  them  and  such 
mottoes  as,  'May  you  ever  escape  them,'  'May  they  be  far  re- 
moved from   thee,'  are   presented  to  each   other  by  friends  as  an 


\ ; 


I    i 


FLOWERS    OF    THE    FIELD   AND    FOREST. 

offering  and  expression  of  kindly  feeling.  The  French  word  for 
the  Marigold  and  for  care  and  anxiety  is  the  same,  sotm,  and  the 
flower  is  dedicated  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  Mater  dolorosa.  It  would, 
however,  appear  to  have  been  originally  but  an  undesigned  corrup- 
tion, or  else  play  upon  words,  its  old  name  being  soucicle,  a  word 
derived  from  the  Latin  solis  cyclus,  the  circle  of  the  sun,  either 
on  account  of  the  brilliant  yellow  disk  and  rays  of  the  flower, 
not  unlike  the  heraldic  representation  of  the  sun,  or  the  habit  of 
the  flowers  turning  with  the  sun  toward  the  light  —  two  theories 
for  the  origin  of  a  name  that  would  equally  well  suit  the  Sun- 
flower of  our  gardens,  a  flower  that  Gerarde,  writing  in  1596,  calls 
the  '  Flower  of  the  Sunne,  or  Marigold  of  Peru.'  The  English 
name,  when  analyzed,  means  literally  the  '  golden  flower  of  Mary,' 
and  points  to  a  time  when  the  monks  held  sway  both  in  religious 
thought  and  botanical  nomenclature,  and  not  unfrequently  tried 
to  combine  the  two." 

The  garden  Marigold  is  reckoned  a  good  barometer,  having  the 
habit  of  closing  up  its  petals  at  the  approach  of  rain.  Whether 
our  present  plant  does  this  I  cannot  say.  But  many  flowers  cer- 
tainly do,  or  at  least  they  shut  up  upon  the  obscuration  of  the  sun. 
Whether  they  think  the  clouding  in  of  that  luminary  is  premon- 
itory of  rain  I  know  not.  But  I  have  seen  a  field  brilliant  with  the 
blossoms  of  the  Dandelion,  almost  literally  a  "cloth  of  gold" 
shining  in  the  morning  sun,  and  in  an  hour  not  a  single  trace  of  a 
flower  could  be  seen  anywhere  The  sun  had  gone  into  retirement 
behind  thick  clouds,  and  the  Dandelions  had  every  one  folded  up 
their  yellow  rays  and  wrapped  their  green  mantle  around  them,  and 
gone  to  sleep,  indistinguishable  in  the  universal  green  of  the 
meadows. 


THE   BUR-MARIGOLD. 


Into  the  story  of  this  sun-loving  and  sun-worshipping  flower  I 
must  be  permitted  to  frame  Emerson's  picture  of  the  poet  natu- 
ralist, Thoreau : 


And  such  I  knew,  a  forest  seer, 

A  minstrel  of  the  natural  year, 

Foreteller  of  the  vernal  ides, 

A  lover  true  who  knew  by  heart 

Each  joy  the  mountain  dales  impart; 

It  seemed  that  Nature  could  not  raise 

A  plant  in  any  secret  place. 

In  quaking  bog,  on  snowy  hill, 

Beneath  the  grass  that  shades  the  rill. 

Under  the  snow,  between  the  rocks, 

In  damp  fields  known  to  bird  and  fox, 

But  he  would  come  in  the  very  hour 

It  opened  in  its  virgin  bower, 

As  if  a  sunbeam  showed  the  place, 

And  tell  its  long-descended  race. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  breezes  brought  him; 

It  seemed  as  if  the  sparrows  taught  him; 

As  if  by  secret  sight  he  knew 

Where  in  far  fields  the  orchis  grew. 

Many  haps  fall  in  the  field 

Seldom  seen  by  wishful  eyes. 

But  all  her  shows  did  Nature  yield, 

To  please  and  win  this  pilgrim  wise. 

He  trod  the  unplanted  forest  floor,  whereon 

The  alluring  sun  for  ages  hath  not  shone; 

He  saw  beneath  dim  aisles,  in  odorous  beds. 

The  slight  Linngea  hang  its  twin-born  heads. 

And  blessed  the  monument  of  the  man  of  flowers. 

Which  breathes  his  sweet  fame  through  the  northern  bowers. 


1 


s 


FLOWERS    OF   THE    FIELD   AND    FOREST. 

He  found  the  tawny  thrush's  broods: 
And  the  shy  hawk  did  wait  for  him; 
What  others  did  at  distance  hear, 
And  guessed  within  the  thicket's  gloom, 
Was  showed  to  this  philosopher, 
And  at  his  bidding  seemed  to  come. 


p  I   i 


I   I 


THE    CLIMBING    HEMP-WEED. 


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Climbing  Hemp-Weed. 


MIKANIA  SCANDENS  mild. 


I  COMB  from  haunts  of  coot  and  hern^ 

I  make  a  sudden  sally, 
And  sparkle  out  among  the  fern, 

To  bicker  down  a  valley. 

I  chatter  over  stony  ways. 

In  little  sharps  and  trebles, 

I  bubble  into  eddying  bays. 

And  babble  on  the  pebbles. 

I  chatter,  chatter,  as  I  flow 

To  join  the  brimming  river. 

For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go 
But  I  go  on  forever. 

I  wind  about,  and  in  and  out, 
With  here  a  blossom  sailing. 

And  here  and  there  a  lusty  trout, 
And  here  and  there  a  grayling; 

And  draw  them  all  along,  and  flow 
To  join  the  brimming  river. 

For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go, 
But  I  go  on  forever. 

Tennyson. 


FLOWERS    OF    THE    FIELD   AND    FOREST. 


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In  the  sound  of  babbling  brooks  and  singing  birds,  ouf 
graceful  climber  lives  out  the  shining  months  of  its  summer 
life.  It  makes  its  home  upon  the  shady  banks  and  interlacing 
with  the  limbs  of  overarching  trees,  it  curtains  the  bed  of  the 
sleepless  streamlet  with  its  festoons  of  leaves  and  clustering 
flo'/ers.  In  such  situations  it  may  be  looked  for  anywhere  in  the 
United  States  east  of  the  Mississippi.  The  genus,  which  was  named 
for  Professor  Joseph  Mikan,  of  Prague,  includes  some  sixty  species 
found  mostly  in  the  warmer  parts  of  America,  Asia,  and  Africa. 
It  belongs  to  the  order  Compositae,  described  in  the  last  paper, 
though  the  heads  of  white  and  pink  blossoms  are  unusually  small, 
containing  but  four  flowerets  each.  Several  of  these  small  heads 
are  gathered  into  the  flower-clusters  represented  in  the  plate.  The 
fact  that  this  vine  belongs  to  the  same  order  with  the  Thistle 
and  Dandelion  indicates  the  remarkable  variety  in  the  form  and 
habit  of  plants  so  closely  related  in  their  flowering  as  are  the 
members  of  this  order.  For  we  find  in  it  not  only  such  plants 
as  the  Marigold  and  Aster,  and  this  vine,  but  many  woody  shrubs 
and  several  forest  trees. 

The  blossoms  of  the  Hemp-Weed  open  in  midsummer  and 
form  a  fine  contrast  with  the  bright-green,  strongly-veined  leaves. 
I  doubt  not  the  foliage  with  its  graceful  outline  and  rich  color 
will  form  as  attractive  a  part  of  the  picture  both  in  the  book 
and  in  nature,  as  the  flowers  themselves.  Indeed,  I  think  we 
only  need  to  have  our  attention  called  to  the  matter,  to  find  more 
and  more  that  is  peculiarly  attractive  and  charming  in  the  foliage 
of  plants.  I  can  conceive  of  nothing  in  the  plant  world  more 
admirable  than  some  Horse-Chestnut  trees  which  I  have  seen, 
the  memory  of  which  as  a  picture  of  great  pleasantness  will  always 


THE   CLIMBING    HEMP-WEED. 


remain  with  me.  To  be  sure,  they  had  the  grace  of  a  well- 
rounded  form,  bounded  by  lines  of  beauty  on  every  side.  But 
their  folia<^  was  their  glory,  a  solid  mass  of  it,  every  leaf  and 
leaflet  pciict,  and  perfectly  arranged  and  displayed,  the  terminal 
ones  overlying  each  other  from  the  bottom  to  the  top  of  the  tree 
like  the  feathers  upon  the  breast  of  a  bird.  They  were  indeed 
master-pieces  of  Nature's  art;  pictures  of  the  most  exquisite  beauty 
painted  in  one  pigment.  How  simple  are  nature's  methods,  but 
how  manifold  the  results. 

In  a  former  paper  in  this  book  I  have  recommended  making 
collections  of  leaves  of  plants  for  studies  of  artistic  forms.  Since 
writing  that  paper  I  have  chanced  upon  the  same  suggestion  by 
Starr  King  in  his  "White  Hills."  I  am  only  too  glad  to  be  con- 
vinced by  eloquence  so  fine  that  my  hint  had  not  even  the 
merit  of  novelty.  The  idea  is  all  the  more  valuable  to  me,  now 
that  I  find  it  commended  by  a  lover  of  nature,  whose  fine  sense 
of  her  varioijs  and  matchless  beauties  is  only  equalled  by  the 
incomparable  skill  with  which  he  makes  them  live  and  shine  in 
his  glowing  words.     He  says: 

"While  we  are  shut  in  by  the  forest,  we  may  turn  our  atten- 
tion to  the  symmetry  and  variety  of  the  leaves,  and  try  to  learn 
something  of  Nature's  wealth  of  resources  as  to  graceful  form, 
within  narrow  boundaries.  An  eye  that  is  sensitive  to  the  grace 
of  curves  and  parabolas  and  oval  swells  will  marvel  at  the  feast 
which  a  day's  walk  in  the  woods  will  supply  from  the  trees,  the 
grasses,  and  the  weeds,  in  the  varying  outlines,  the  notchings, 
veinings,  and  edgings  of  the  leaves.  They  stand  for  the  art  of 
sculpture  in.  Botany,  representing  the  intellectual  delight  of  Nature 
in    form,  as  the  flowers  express   the   companion  art  of  painting. 


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FLOWERS   OF   THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


Leaves  are  the  Greek,  flowers  the  Italian  phase  of  the  spirit  of 
beauty  that  reveals  itself  through  the  Flora  of  the  globe. 

"An  exhaustive  collection  of  leaves  would  form  one  of  the 
most  attractive  museums  that  could  be  gathered.  It  would  be 
a  privilege  that  could  not  but  unseal  in  some  measure  the  dullest 
eye,  to  look  in  one  day  over  the  whole  scale  of  Nature's  foliage-art, 
from  the  feathery  spray  of  the  moss,  to  the  tough  texture  of  the 
Amazon  lily's  stem  that  will  float  a  burden  of  a  hundred  weight; 
from  the  bristles  of  the  pine-tree  to  the  Ceylon  palm-leaf  that  will 
shelter  a  family  with  its  shade. 

"Would  it  not  astonish  us  with  something  like  reverent  ad- 
miration, if  we  could  sweep  the  gradation  of  Nature's  green  as  it  is 
distilled  from  arctic  and  temperate  and  tropic  light,  and  varied  by 
some  shade  on  every  leaf  that  grows;  if  we  could  scan  all  the 
textures  of  the  drapery  woven  out  of  salts  and  water  in  botanic 
looms,  from  the  softest  silk  of  the  corn  to  the  broad  tissues  of  the 
banana's  stock ;  if  we  could  see  displayed  in  wide  masses  all  the 
hues  in  which  Autumn  dyes  the  leaves  of  our  own  forests,  as 
though  every  square  mile  had  been  drenched  in  the  aerial  juices  of 
a  gorgeous  sunset  ?  And  then  when  we  should  see  how  the  general 
geometry  of  the  verdure  is  broken  into  countless  patterns,  we 
should  find  our  museum  of  leaves  as  engaging  a  school  for  the 
education  of  the  intellect  as  a  collection  of  all  vertebrae,  or  a  rep- 
resentative conservatory  of  the  globe. 

"  A  careful  and  eloquent  observer  of  Nature  describes  the  leaf 
as  the  sudden  expansion  of  the  stem  that  bore  it ;  an  uncontrollable 
expression  of  delight,  on  the  part  of  the  twig  that  Spring  has 
come,  shown  in  a  fountain-like  expatiation  of  its  tender  green  heart 
into  the  air.    And  to  hold  this  joy,  Nature  moulds  the  leaves  as 


THE  CLIMBING   HEMP-WEED. 

vases  into  the  most  diverse  and  fantastic  shapes,  —  of  eggs,  and 
hearts,  and  circles,  of  lances,  and  wedges,  and  arrows,  and  shields. 
She  cleaves  and  parts  and  notches  them  in  the  most  cunning  ways, 
combines  their  blades  into  the  most  subtle  and  complicated  vari- 
eties, and  scallops  their  edges  and  points  into  patterns  that  involve, 
seemingly,  every  possible  angle  and  every  line  of  grace." 

The  grace  of  this  airy  vine  and  the  delicious  summer  rest  and 
the  peaceful  calm  of  the  blue  air  which  it  calls  to  mind,  brings 
with  it  the  memory  of  Lowell's  lines : 

This  willow  is  as  old  to  me  as  life; 

And  under  it  full  often  have  I  stretched, 

Feeling  the  warm  earth  like  a  thing  alive, 

And  gathering  virtue  in  at  every  pore, 

Till  it  possessed  me  wholly  and  thought  ceased. 

Or  was  transfused  in  something  to  which  thought 

Is  coarse  and  dull  of  sense.     Myself  was  lost. 

Gone  from  me  like  an  ache,  and  w^hat  remained 

Became  a  part  of  the  universal  joy. 

My  soul  went  forth,  and,  mingling  with  the  tree. 

Danced  in  the  leaves;  or  floating  in  the  cloud, 

Saw  its  white  doable  in  the  stream  below; 

Or  else  sublimed  to  purer  ecstasy. 

Dilated  in  the  broad  blue  over  all. 

I  was  the  wind  that  dappled  the  lush  grass. 

The  thin-winged  swallow  skating  on  the  air; 

The  life  that  gladdened  everything  was  mine. 

Was  I  thus  truly  all  that  I  beheld? 

Or  is  this  stream  of  being  but  a  glass 

Where  the  mind  sees  its  visionary  self, 

As,  when  the  kingfisher  flits  o'er  his  bay, 

Across  the  river's  hollow  heaven  below 

His  picture  flits;  —  another,  yet  the  same? 


I    ! 


i! 


'    I  i 

r    \ 

i 

■*ii    ii*y 


\-  ^ 


»     IS 


The  White   Bay. 


GORDONIA  PUBESCENS. 


Oh,  ye  who  love  to  overhang  the  springs, 

And  stand  by  living  waters,  ye  whose  boughs 

Make  beautiful  the  rocks  o'er  which  they  play, 

Who  pile  with  foliage  the  great  hills,  and  rear 

A  paradise  upon  the  lonely  plain, 

Trees  of  the  forest  and  the  open  field! 

Have  ye  no  sense  of  being?    Does  the  air, 

The  pure  air,  which  I  breathe  with  gladness,  pass 

In  gushes  o'er  your  delicate  lungs,  your  leaves, 

All  unenjoyed?    When  on  your  winter's  sleep 

The  sun  shines  warm,  have  ye  no  d:^  ris  of  spring? 

And  when  the  glorious  spring-time  cor^^s  at  last, 

Have  ye  no  joy  of  all  your  bursting  buds. 

And  fragrant  blooms,  and  melody  of  birds, 

To  which  your  young  leaves  shiver?    Do  ye  strive 

And  wrestle  with  the  winds,  yet  know  it  not? 

Feel  ye  no  glory  in  your  strength  when  he, 

The  exhausted  Blusterer,  flies  beyond  the  hills 

And  leaves  you  stronger  yet? 

Nay,  doubt  we  not  that  under  the  rough  rind. 
In  the  green  veins  of  these  fair  growths  of  earth, 
There  dwells  a  nature  that  receives  delight 
From  all  the  gentle  processes  of  life, 
And  shrinks  from  loss  of  being.    Dim  and  faint 
May  be  the  sense  of  pleasure  and  of  pain, 
As  in  our  dreams;  but,  haply,  real  still. 

Bryant. 


FLOWERS   OF   THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


The  only  representative  of  our  peculiarly  rich  Southern  flora 
which  adorns  our  pages  is  the  White  Bay,  represented  so  finely 
in  our  plate.  It  is  a  large  shrub,  blooming  resplendent  in  the 
everglades  of  Florida  and  the  rich  semi-tropical  forests  of  Georgia. 
Mr.  Sprague  has  reproduced  the  beauty  and  elegance  of  the 
flower  so  faithfully  that  I  need  not  attempt  a  further  description 
of  it  in  words. 

The  genus  was  named  for  Dr.  Gordon,  an  old-time  botanist 
of  Aberdeen,  Scotland.  It  belongs  to  the  order  of  the  Camellias, 
and  is  first  cousin  to  the  tea  plant  whose  fragrant  decoction  daily 
"cheers  but  does  not  inebriate"  the  whole  civilized  world. 

If  my  readers  will  look  with  a  little  care  at  the  leaves  on 
the  plant,  as  the  artist  has  pictured  them,  they  will  see  that  they 
are  not  arranged  one  directly  above  the  other,  nor  one  opposite 
the  other,  but,  in  what  appears  at  first  sight,  a  disorderly  fashion 
about  the  stem.  It  will  be  worth  while,  I  trust,  to  look  a  little 
into  what  is  suggested  by  this  fact,  and  see  if  there  be  a  law 
or  system  in  the  arrangement  of  the  leaves  of  plants.  This 
matter  has  been  the  subject  of  no  little  study  on  the  part  of 
botanists  and  other  scientific  people,  and  here,  as  elsewhere  in  na- 
ture it  has  been  found  that  the  rule  is  not  accident  or  chaos,  but 
law  and  order. 

"  All  nature  is  but  art  unknown  to  thee, 

All  chance,  direction  which  thou  canst  not  see, 

All  discord,  harmony  not  understood." 

But  we  are  learning  to  know  nature's  art,  and  to  understand 
the  deeper  harmonies  hidden  in  her  apparent  discords. 

Dr.  Gray  says  the  leaves  are  symmetrically  arranged  upon  the 
stem,  and   that  their  position   determines  that  of  the  buds  and 


THE   WHITE   BAY. 

branches.  "  A  plant  no  less  than  an  animal  is  symmetrical.  Leaves 
are  either  single,  or  else  there  is  a  pair  or  more  than  a  pair 
upon  each  joint.  When  a  pair  only,  they  stand  always  upon  ex- 
actly opposite  sides  of  the  stem ;  when  three,  four,  or  any  other 
number,  they  divide  the  circumference  of  the  stem  equally,  that 
is,  they  stand  as  far  apart  from  each  other  as  possible  in  the 
circle.  A  circle  of  three  or  more  leaves  is  called  a  whorl.  The 
pairs  or  whorls  of  leaves  follow  each  other  in  a  fixed  order; 
each  pair  stands  over  the  intervals  of  the  pair  next  below,  and 
the  leaves  of  the  whorl  of  three  or  other  number  correspond  to 
the  intervals  of  those  next  below  and  above. 

"  In  the  alternate  arrangement,  that  is  when  bud  and  leaf  is 
produced  upon  each  joint,  the  single  leaves  succeed  each  other 
in  a  definite  order  maintaining  a  complete  symmetry.  Each  leaf 
projects  from  the  stem  at  a  fixed  angle  with  that  which  precedes 
it,  which  is  uniform  for  the  species,  but  is  different  in  the  dif- 
ferent species.  In  the  simplest  case  the  second  leaf  is  on  exactly 
the  opposite  side  of  the  stem  from  the  first,  of  course  higher 
up;  the  third  leaf  on  the  opposite  side  from  the  second,  and 
therefore  vertically  over  the  first.  So  the  leaves  are  in  two  verti- 
cal ranks;  the  angular  divergence,  that  is,  the  angle  which  suc- 
cessive leaves  make  is  one  half  the  circumference  of  the  stem. 

"  Other  plants  have  the  angular  divergence  one-third,  that  is,  the 
second  leaf  is  placed  one-third  round  the  stem;  the  third  is  one- 
third  round  from  that,  and  the  fourth  of  course  comes  directly 
over  the  first,  the  fifth  over  the  second,  and  so  on,  the  leaves 
being  hence  disposed  in  three  vertical  ranks."  Alders  and  sedges 
form  an  example  of  this.  "A  line  traced  on  the  stem  through 
the  place  of  attachment  of  the  successive  leaves  forms  a  spiral: 


I 


FLOWERS  OF  THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


each  turn  from  one  leaf  round  to  the  one  directly  over  it  is  called 
a  cycle.  Alternate  leaves  are  never  in  four  ranks,  but  they  are  very 
commonly  —  most  commonly  —  in  five.  In  that  case  the  angular 
divergence  or  portion  of  the  circle  between  two  successive  leaves 
is  two-fifths  of  the  circumference,  and  the  spiral  line  ascends 
through  two  whole  turns  round  the  stem  before  it  touches  a  leaf 
exactly  over  the  one  at  the  point  of  starting,  and  that  is  the  sixth 
leaf  in  the  series.  These  several  modes  of  arrangement  may  be 
designated  by  the  fractions  i,  i,  f,  which  measure  the  angle  of 
divergence  of  the  successive  leaves  in  the  spiral.  The  denomi- 
nators likewise  express  the  number  of  vertical  ranks,  and  the 
numerators  the  number  of  turns  round  the  stem  which  the  spiral 
makes  in  completing  the  cycle."  But  leaves  are  arranged  in  8 
vertical  ranks,  and  in  13,  and  21,  and  34,  and  even  a  greater 
number.  In  such  cases  the  spiral  makes  respectively  3,  5,  8  and 
13  turns  in  completing  the  cycle. 

It  will  be  found  that  these  fractions  form  a  series,  ^,  i, },  f,  a, 
^Ti  ill  etc.,  each  numerator  from  the  third  being  formed  by  adding 
together  the  two  preceding  numerators,  and  the  denominators  are 
formed  in  the  same  way.  The  subject  comes  therefore  within 
the  field  of  mathematics,  and  has  furnished  matter  for  much  in- 
teresting mathematical  discussion.  Among  other  points  deduced 
from  the  mathematical  treatment  of  the  question  is  this,  that 
however  high  the  series  runs,  and  it  is  quite  complex  in  some  de- 
velopments of  it,  as  in  the  pine  cone  and  the  arrangement  of 
seeds  in  the  heads  of  composite  flowers,  no  successive  leaves  are 
ever  more  than  one-half  the  circumference  apart  or  ever  less  than 
one-third. 

Prof.  Benjamin  Peirce    pointed    out    that  there   was   also  a 


THE  WHITE  BAY. 


correspondence  between  this  law  of  position  of  the  leaves  and 
other  parts  of  plants  on  the  stem,  and  the  law  of  the  motion  of 
the  planets  about  the  sun,  so  that  if  the  time  of  the  revolution  of 
any  planet  be  divided  by  the  time  of  the  planet  next  outside  it, 
the  quotient  would  be  one  of  the  fractions  which  express  the 
position  of  the  leaves,  nearly,  as  given  above. 

If  we  inquire  the  reason  for  such  an  arrangement  of  the  leaves 
as  here  set  forth,  we  are  told  that  we  shall  find  at  least  one  reason 
in  the  fact  that  by  placing  the  leaves  in  these  positions  they  are 
thus  best  arranged  to  receive  light,  the  force  by  which  they  per- 
form their  double  function  of  lungs  and  stomach;  that  when  so 
placed  the  leaves  above  cut  off  less  of  the  light  from  those  below 
than  by  any  other  arrangement.  There  is  also  another  reason 
suggested  in  the  fact  that  this  arrangement  gives  symmetry  and 
beauty  to  the  plants  not  otherwise  attainable.  But  I  suppose  we 
may  look  for  other  reasons  and  more  profound,  for  building 
plants  and  planets  on  this  one  plan,  in  the  mind  of  Him  who 
is  the  Architect  of  both. 

This  law  of  the  position  of  the  leaves  of  plants  was  first 
noticed  about  a  century  ago  by  Bonnet,  a  French  botanist,  who 
wound  a  thread  about  a  twig  of  plum  or  peach,  touching  the 
points  of  attachment  of  the  successive  leaves.  He  observed  the 
resulting  spiral,  and  the  fact  that  the  successive  leaves  made  a 
uniform  angle  with  each  other  about  the  stem.  Other  botanists 
made  the  observation  with  respect  to  a  large  number  of  plants 
and  noted  the  various  applications  of  the  law  in  the  different 
species  and  the  different  parts  of  the  plant,  as  in  the  leaf-buds, 
flower-buds,  petals,  sepals,  seeds,  etc.  But  it  was  left  to  our  great 
mathematician  Prof.  Peirce,  in  1849,  to  announce  the  mathemati- 


FLOWERS  OF   THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


^ 


cal   law   by  which   all   these   observations    are   to   be   explained 

and   classified,  —  the   law  of   extreme   and    mean    ratio,  as   it   is 

called;    that  is,  the  dividing  a  thing   into  two    parts,  in    such  a 

way  that  the  smaller  part  shall  be  to  the  larger  as  the  larger  is 

to  the  whole. 

In    dismissing  our  lovely  flower  and   the   lesson   of  celestial 

mechanics   to  which  it   has   led   us,  we  will  pause  a  moment  to 

catch  the  song  of  another  poet  who  has   heard  the  voice  of  the 

forest  trees. 

Pine  in  the  distance, 
Patient  through  sun  and  rain, 
Meeting  with  graceful  persistence, 
The  north  wind's  wrench  and  strain, 
No  memory  of  past  existence 

Brings  thee  pain; 
Right  for  the  zenith  heading. 
Friendly  with  heat  and  cold. 
Thine  arms  to  the  infinite  spreading 
Of  the  heavens,  just  from  of  old. 
Thou  only  aspirest  the  more, 
Unregretful  the  old  leaves  shedding 
That  fringed  thee  with  music  before, 
And  deeper  thy  roots  embedding 
In  the  grace  and  the  beauty  of  yore; 

Thou  sighest  not  "Alas,  I  am  older, 
The  green  of  last  summer  is  sear! " 
But  loftier,  hopefuller,  bolder. 
Wins  broader  horizons  each  year. 

Lowell. 


THE    CARDINAL-FLOWER. 


^' 


; 


11 


1: 
I 


\.< 


V 


\  .,.,» 


i-    ■ 


fi 


The  Cardinal-Flower. 


LOBELIA  CARDINAUS  L, 


Then  think  I  of  deep  shadows  on  the  grass,  — 
Of  meadows  where  in  sun  the  cattle  graze, 

Where,  as  the  breezes  pass, 
The  gleaming  rushes  lean  a  thousand  ways,— 
Of  leaves  that  slumber  in  a  cloudy  mass. 
Or  whiten  in  the  wind,  —  of  waters  blue 
That  from  the  distance  sparkle  through 
Some  woodland  gap,  —  and  of  a  sky  above. 
Where  one  white  cloud  like  a  stray  lamb  doth  move. 

My  childhood's  earliest  thoughts  are  linked  with  theej 
The  sight  of  thee  calls  back  the  robin's  song, 

Who,  from  the  dark  old  tree 
Beside  the  door  sung  clearly  all  day  long, 
And  I,  secure  in  childish  piety, 

Listened  as  if  I  heard  an  angel  sing 
With  news  from  heaven,  which  he  could  bring 
Fresh  every  day  to  my  untainted  ears. 
When  birds,  and  flowers,  and  I  were  happy  peers. 

LoTvell. 


*v 


We  have  before  us  one  of  our  most  brilliant  wild-flowers. 
Nature  may  almost  defy  art  to  reproduce  the  color  with  which 
she  dyes  its   flaming   petals.     Nothing  comparable  to  it  is  seen 


FLOWERS   OF   THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


in  our  native  floral  domain,  and  nature  does  not  repeat  it  in 
even  the  brilliant  colors  of  the  autumn  woods.  As  splendid  and 
as  characteristic  as  this  color  is  in  the  Cardinal-flower,  it  is  said  to 
be  not  quite  constant,  but  occasionally  "sports"  pink,  white,  and 
even  yellow. 

It  is  very  common  in  New  England,  and  is  indeed  distril> 
uted  throughout  the  country  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  It 
always  grows  on  low  ground  in  marshes  and  by  the  side  of 
water-courses.  It  lines  the  banks  of  Taunton  Great-River  for 
long  distances,  standing  up  to  its  middle  in  water  at  high  tide, 
and  bending  low  and  swaying  heavily  as  the  whelming  waves 
go  over  its  head  from  the  puffing,  hurrying  little  steamers  pass- 
ing by. 

The  splendid  display  and  contrast  of  colors  which  a  mass  of 
these  flowers  make  by  the  side  of  a  clear  stream  is  very  striking. 
The  green  leaves  of  the  trees  are  massed  behind  and  above,  the 
grass  below,  and  in  the  midst  this  blood-red  flower,  like  tongues 
of  flame,  reaching  up,  the  blue  sky  overhead,  and  all  repeated  in 
the  glassy  water  beneath,  make  a  picture  not  to  be  forgotten. 

The  lines  of  Dr.  Holmes  give  us  a  poetical  interpretation  of 
some  such  scene. 

The  Cardinal,  and  the  blood-red  spots, 

Its  double  in  the  stream; 
As  if  some  wounded  eagle's  breast^ 

Slow  throbbing  o'er  the  plain, 
Had  left  its  airy  path  impressed 

In  drops  of  scarlet  rain. 

The  Cardinal-flower  grows  from  two  to  five  feet  high,  and 
remains  in   bloom  from  July  to  October,  thus   both   by  its   size 


THE   CAkDINAL-FLX)WER. 

and  season  of  flowering,  contributing  its  full  share  to  the  beauty 
of  our  summer  and  autumn  landscape.  It  comes  in  with  the 
heat,  and  goes  out  with  the  frost. 

It  is  said  to  be  easy  of  cultivation  in  gardens  where  moist  places 
may  be  found  into  which  to  transplant  it.  It  seems  to  be  capa- 
ble of  crossing  in  a  wild  state  with  a  large  blue-flowered  species 
of  the  Lobelia,  common  in  our  woods.  Examples  of  hybrids  pro- 
duced in  nature  which  show  marked  characteristics  of  both  species 
are  not  unknown.  Whether  the  hybrids  propagate  any  other  way 
than  by  shoots  I  know  not. 

The  genus  Lobelia  comprises  some  two  hundred  species  scat- 
tered over  the  world,  about  twenty  of  which  are  natives  of  this 
country,  though  strange  to  say  none  have  ever  yet  been  found  on 
the  Pacific  coast.  Botanically  considered,  the  genus  is  related 
to  such  compositae  as  the  Asters  on  the  one  side  and  to  the 
Campanulas  or  Bell-flowers  on  the  other.  A  comparison  of  the 
parts,  as  for  example,  of  the  pistil  and  stamens  with  those  of  the 
Aster,  and  the  corolla  with  that  of  the  Bell-flower,  would  make 
the  relationship  apparent  to  any  observer. 

Botanists  have  noticed  that  many  species  of  Lobelia  are  fertilized 
by  help  of  insects,  as  I  have  had  occasion  to  show  is  true  of 
several  other  flowers,  whose  natural  history  has  been  given  in  this 
book  and  in  "  Beautiful  Wild  Flowers."  But  in  the  Cardinal- 
flower  we  have  an  example  of  a  plant  depending  upon  birds  for 
help  in  the  act  of  pollenization.  As  will  easily  be  seen  by  an 
inspection  of  the  flower  or  of  the  plate,  the  anthers  and  partly 
the  filaments  of  the  stamens  are  glued  together  at  their  sides 
forming  a  close  tube.  The  pollen  is  produced  on  the  inside  of 
this  and  discharged  from  the  open  bearded  mouth  at  the  end. 


FLOWERS   OF   THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


I'i 


I- 

it 

» /? 


Now  the  pistil  grows  up  through  this  narrow  tube,  and 
at  last  protrudes  beyond  it.  At  first  glance  it  would  seem  im- 
possible that  the  flower  should  not  be  self-fertilized.  But  by 
looking  closer  it  will  be  found  that  the  pollen  all  ripens  and 
falls  out  of  the  anther  before  the  pistil  grows  up  to  the  end  of 
the  tube  where  the  pollen  is  produced.  Moreover,  the  stigmatic 
surface  is  on  the  inside  of  the  two  lobes  which  are  made  by 
splitting  the  end  of  the  pistil  down.  As  the  pistil  pushes  up 
through  the  tube,  by  the  anthers,  these  surfaces  are  shut  close 
together,  face  to  face,  so  that  the  pollen  could  not  possibly  reach 
them.  These  lobes  open  and  expose  their  stigmatic  surface 
only  when  they  have  protruded  quite  beyond  the  end  of  the 
pollen-bearing  anther  tube. 

The  plate  shows  not  only  the  position  of  this  organ,  but 
also  in  the  newer  flowers  at  the  top  the  anther  tube  with  no 
pistil,  and,  lower  down,  flowers  where  the  pistil  has  completed  its 
growth  and  expanded  its  yellow-lobed  stigma  ready  for  poUeniza- 
tion.  Now  it  is  evident  that  any  particular  flower  must  be 
fertilized  by  pollen  from  a  flower  younger  than  itself.  Associated 
with  this  arrangement  of  parts  of  which  I  have  spoken  are 
adaptations  for  securing  help  in  transferring  the  pollen  from  the 
younger  to  the  older  flowers,  such  as  a  supply  of  nectar  secreted 
at  the  bottom  of  the  tubular  corolla,  and  advertised  by  the  bril- 
liant color  of  the  flower.  As  has  been  shown  by  Mr.  Darwin, 
Prof.  J.  E.  Todd  and  others,  in  the  case  of  other  species  of 
Lobelia,  bees  visit  the  flowers  in  search  of  the  nectar,  and  getting 
their  backs  dusted  with  pollen  from  the  end  of  the  anther-tube 
which  arches  out  over  them,  carry  it  to  older  flowers  where  the 
pistil  is  ready  to  receive  it. 


THE  CARDINAL-FLOWER. 


According  to  Prof.  Goodale,  however,  "  the  Cardinal-flower  has 
so  long  and  narrow  a  corolla-tube  that  bees  are  unable  to  reach 
its  nectar,  which  is,  moreover,  so  watery  that  they  do  not  in  this 
case  resort  to  their  frequent  expedient  of  biting  through  the  corolla 
to  get  at  it.  They  are  replaced  by  our  beautiful  ruby-throated 
humming-bird,  which  may  be  seen  when  the  plants  are  plentiful, 
gracefully  posing  itself  before  one  flower  after  another,  while  its 
tongue  deftly  explores  them  and  removes  their  sugared  stores; 
but  in  doing  this  the  bird  is  continually  receiving  pollen  from 
the  anthers  of  young  flowers  and  leaving  it  on  the  expanded 
stigmas  of  those  which  are  older.  This  is  one  of  the  very  few 
cases  in  which  our  native  flowers  are  adapted  to  fertilization  by 
humming-birds;  but  in  tropical  America,  where  these  birds  are 
abundant,  many  flowers  are  exclusively  cross-fertilized  by  them. 
Such  flowers  are  sometimes  spoken  of  as  ornithophilous,  or  bird 
loving. 

For  most  of  the  following  facts  concerning  the  origin  of  the 
popular  and  scientific  names  of  the  Cardinal-flower  and  its  history, 
I  am  indebted  to  Prof.  Meehan's  "  Native  Flowers  and  Ferns  of 
the  United  States."  The  generic  name  was  given  to  it  more  than 
a  century  and  a  half  ago  by  Plumier,  who  was  an  ingenious 
Frenchman,  noted  for  his  discoveries  among  American  plants,  in 
honor  of  Mathias  de  I'Obel,  a  famous  Flemish  botanist  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  Lobel,  according  to  all  accounts,  was  a  remark- 
able man.  He  was  born  in  Lisle,  Flanders,  in  1538,  and  died  in 
London  in  1616;  was  graduated  in  medicine  in  Montpelier,  prac- 
tised at  Antwerp,  became  physician  to  the  Prince  of  Orange,  settled 
in  England  about  1570,  though  it  appears  that  he  had  lived  there 
for  a  time  during  early  life,  and  served  as  gardener  to  the  Earl  0/ 


FLOWERS   OF  THE   FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


4 


^ 


I' 


if 


Zouch,  at  Hackney,  near  London.  He  was  subsequently  appointed 
botanist  and  physician  to  King  James  the  First.  He  was  the 
author  of  several  voluminous  works  on  botany,  all  of  which  were 
profusely  illustrated.  He  projected  a  vast  botanical  cyclopaedia 
and  prepared  a  portion  of  it,  which  was  edited  and  published  half 
a  century  after  his  death  by  Parkinson.  It  is  said  that  the  idea 
of  natural  families  among  plants  may  be  found  in  Lobel's  works. 

"  The  illustrations  of  Lobel's  works  can  scarcely  be  recognized 
now  as  belonging  to  the  plants  for  which  they  were  intended." 
And,  in  the  light  of  this  fact,  "  it  is  amusing,"  says  Prof.  Meehan, 
"  to  find  Lobel  complaining  that  the  cuts  illustrating  the  work  of 
his  predecessor,  Mathiolus,  are  so  unlike  nature,  that  he  thinks 
this  early  author  must  have  drawn  his  pictures  in  many  cases 
from  his  imagination." 

One  may  judge  of  the  estimation  in  which  he  and  his  works 
were  held  by  later  botanists,  by  the  fact  that  it  was  nearly  a 
century  after  his  death  that  Plumier  named  for  him  this  im- 
portant and  interesting  genus  of  plants.  We  first  hear  of  the 
Cardinal-flower  in  Parkinson's  "  Herbel,"  published  in  England 
about  1630.  He  says  that  he  had  the  root  of  the  plant  from 
France,  it  having  been  sent  over  from  the  New  World  by  the 
French  who  had  settled  in  Canada.  It  is  therefore  probable 
that  our  Cardinal-flower  was  among  the  earliest  of  our  native 
plants  to  be  sent  to  the  Old  World,  and  to  receive  the  admiring 
attention  of  botanists  there.  It  no  doubt  got  its  popular  name 
in  France,  as  Parkinson  seems  to  say,  a  name  which  we  can 
easily  suppose  was  suggested  by  the  resemblance  of  its  brilliant 
color  to  the  scarlet  hat  and  cassock  of  a  cardinal  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church.   Parkinson  calls  it  "  a  very  brave  "  plant,  referring, 


^; 


THE   CARDINAL-FLOWER. 


of  course,  to  its  gaudy  or  showy  dress  of  scarlet  blossoms.  And 
Mrs.  Sigourney  shows  her  appreciation  of  its  regal  splendor  and 
dignity  by  picturing  the 

"Lobelia  attired  like  a  queen  in  her  pride.** 

There  are  frequent  references  to  this  "  flower  of  the  scarlet  hat " 
in  American  poets,  and  always  with  recognition  of  its  noble  and 
striking  qualities.  The  floral  emblematists  have  not  been  un- 
mindful of  its  highborn  name  and  nature  and  have  dedicated 
it  to  "Distinction."  In  "Berkshire  Wild-flowers"  Miss  Dora 
Read  Goodale  thus  sweetly  sings  its  praise: 

To  the  westward  burns  the  smouldering  day, 

Still  and  solemn  in  the  sunset  sky; 
In  the  purple  hollows  far  away 

Shadowy  veils  of  early  evening  lie, 
And  the  misty  mountain  tops  are  gray. 

In  the  stagnant  pool,  stirred  by  a  breath. 

All  the  shifting  light  and  color  lies, 
In  its  shallows,  dim  with  brooding  death. 

All  the  sweeping  splendors  of  the  skies 
Glass  themselves,  and  scatter  light  beneath. 

Whence  is  yonder  flower,  so  strangely  bright? 

Would  the  sunset's  last  reflected  shine 
Flame  so  red  from  that  dead  flush  of  light? 

Dark  with  passion  is  its  lifted  line. 
Hot,  alive,  amid  the  falling  night. 

Still  it  burns  intenser  as  I  gaze, 
Till  its  heart-fire  quickens  with  my  own, 

And  when  night  shuts  in  the  dusky  ways 

Red  and  strange  shine  out  the  lights  of  home^ 

Where  my  flower  its  parting  sign  delays. 


